An Extra in the Joker's Game
by LunarEclipse17
Summary: A young woman moves to Gotham for a job opportunity in the acting career and to escape the pain and guilt thrust into her life. However, she soon becomes the obsession of a certain Clown Prince of Crime. The Joker/OC, set during The Dark Knight.
1. Escaping the Pain

**Author's Note:**

**So this is my first fanfic ever. This idea has been in my head a couple of weeks after The Dark Knight came out and I finally have the time to start writing it. **

**I would like to thank Harlequin Sequins for inspiring me with her amazing story, Saviors and Hellion Smiles and for encouraging me to give this fanfic a try! :D**

**I really enjoyed writing this first chapter and I'm looking forward to continuing this story! :D**

**Disclaimer: **

**I don't own Gotham City (and I don't think I would want to, either) because it belongs to DC Comics  
****Julia Brighton belongs to me. :)**

Gotham.

Our country's highest crime rates lie within this city. The once beautiful, highly respected city now broils in its own turmoil. Its inhabitants seem to have fear and worry permanently etched onto their faces.

Gotham: my new home.

As I reached the city limits with my Virginia license plates, I began to feel a sense of anxiety bubbling in the pit of my stomach. I didn't have to leave home. I could have easily gotten a job at the local theatre; after all, it was where I interned during my final year in college.

My family had begged me not to go, told me it was too precarious a place to live. There would be no one to protect me from the dangers that lurk in the shadows at night. No surrounding, blue-green mountains to make me feel safe and secure. I would be on my own.

I supposed I could turn the car around and return home.

No. I needed to escape the pain that had been rampaging in my mind these past three months. I wanted to leave behind everything that would serve as memories, even if it meant my beloved home as well. The guilt had been eating away at me slowly, intent on letting me suffer. I wanted to believe it wasn't my fault, and yet it was.

I could feel the tears coming from my heart and racing up the canal to my eyes. I tried to blink them away, but they couldn't be stopped. Like a waterfall, they made their way to the edge and flowed down my face.

In seconds, the lenses on my sunglasses began to fog up, distorting my vision. In a huff, I tossed them on the passenger seat and impatiently wiped away my tears.

"Come on, Julia," I muttered to myself. "You've been crying for three months. Nothing can change what happened."

I rolled down the window and hungrily took many gulps of air, not caring about the smoke and other pollutants I could taste. My car slowed as the moving van I followed came to a stoplight. Observing my surroundings, I was aware of the skyscrapers towering above me. The image was intimidating, since I grew up in a small city where the tallest building was a bank tower. And even it wouldn't reach the halfway mark on the majority of these steel giants.

My fingers tightened their death grip on the steering wheel. I felt so small and insignificant, this monstrous city too much for a small town girl to handle.

I mentally slapped myself. _Stop trying to talk yourself out of it, Julia. You can do this, you have to._

"I can do this," I told myself firmly. "I have to."

As I weaved my way through downtown traffic, I had become more alert of the many obstacles an enormous city contains. I had to slam on my brakes a few times whenever a distracted pedestrian would dart into the road, seemingly out of nowhere. And I had to pull over to make room for a speeding police car and its entourage.

We finally arrived at my new residence. I slowly made my way out of the car, stretching my stiff legs out of their lengthy slumber. The two movers threw me annoyed looks as they opened the back of the truck, their nonverbal way of telling me, "Quit lollygagging, girly!"

I turned my head so they couldn't witness my eye roll. Oh sure, they were helping me out, but only for the reward of getting paid. They had been nothing but rude to me during my journey up north, throwing my belongings into the truck as if they were worthless junk. And stopping every hour to take a fifteen minute smoke break; lazily talking amongst themselves while I sat in the car, tapping the steering wheel impatiently, my narrowed eyes shooting daggers at the sluggish brutes.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I limped my way to the movers, slowly regaining the feeling in my legs. Without a word, I entered the back of the van and took a fairly light box, followed suit by my so called "helpers". Making my way to the stairs, I glanced around at the apartment building. It was small, only five stories and bland in appearance. But I expect this was considered paradise in comparison to renting an apartment in The Narrows.

My employer told me over the phone, _"Never, under any circumstances, think about living in The Narrows. It's a really shady area, has the worst crime in all of Gotham. You hear all the time about women getting mugged or raped on their way home"_.

What disturbed me more than her actual words was the way she had said them. It was so matter-of-fact, as if it wasn't anything unheard of.

Hearing the gulp I had emitted, she quickly added, _"But you'll have nothing to worry about, Julia. If you live close to the theatre, you'll only be five minutes from downtown and far away from The Narrows!"_

I quavered slightly, just hearing the name was enough to give me chills. Thankfully, I made it to my level after climbing only one set of stairs, so I didn't have to focus on Gotham's worst section any longer. Upon opening the door, I found myself in the bleak, four room apartment. It wasn't very spacious, but it looked comfortable enough.

I winced as one of the movers roughly made his way past me, banging into my arm without so much as an apology. I could feel the heat rising up to my cheeks, but decided it would be best not to tell him off.

After almost an hour, I made my way down the stairs for what seemed like the hundredth time. There was just one box left, which I had purposely placed in the corner of the truck, away from anything that would do it harm. Out of sight, but never out of mind.

When I climbed into the truck, I found the man only a couple of inches taller than me stooping to retrieve the box. His rough grip caused it to open slightly and he carelessly tossed my precious store onto his shoulder.

"Please be careful with that," I said, hurrying over. "That's a very fragile box."

He snorted, "Look lady, if it ain't got the writing on it, then I really don't give a damn how I handle it".

"Yes, well _I_ give a damn. It contains items that are extremely important to me".

Rolling his eyes, he shoved the box into my arms. "Don't see what the big deal is. It's just a couple of pictures of you and-"

"It's of sentimental value; surely even you can understand that," I cut him off bitterly, my temper getting the better of me.

Grumbling to himself, he trudged out of the vehicle, with me in his wake. I held the box securely over my heart, like a mother with her newborn infant, intent on protecting it from harm. When I placed it on my desk next to my laptop, I turned to the movers, thankful this ordeal was almost over.

I rummaged through my purse and pulled out two crisp ten dollar bills, handing one to each of them. Their work may have been less than satisfactory, but I heard that movers are generally underpaid. So I suppose a little is always better than nothing.

Giving each other disgusted looks, the more intimidating of the two exclaimed, "Lady, do you seriously believe that after we worked our asses off to move you from that worthless little town of yours to this fucked up city, that you can tip us this shitty amount of so-called money?"

I tilted my head, staring at their lower backs. "Hmm, well your asses seem to be intact to me, so I guess that means you barely put any effort into it".

The stockier bastard's mouth fell open, making him appear even more idiotic, while his companion started to shout, "Why you little -"

"Nevertheless," My normally quiet voice managed to overcome the ringing noise emitting from his mouth. "I could always give you the appropriate amount you earned, which happens to be _nothing_. Now that's my final offer. Ya'll can either take it, or leave it. What's it gonna be?"

After many seconds of uncomfortable silence, the two sent me a final death glare and stomped off to their truck, looking very similar to brothers who were denied sweets due to their bratty behavior.

I made my way to the window, making sure they wouldn't be stupid enough to ram into my car before driving off, as an act of bitter revenge. Thankfully, they only shouted incoherent words I couldn't register (but I could imagine), slamming their doors shut, and speeding in the direction of the freeway.

Turning away from the window, I looked around at the numerous boxes containing my treasures. "Might as well get started," I sighed, heading over to one labeled "Kitchenware", ripping off the tape, beginning the first tedious task of my new life.


	2. Nightmares and Destruction

**Hey guys! So here's chapter two! Sorry, but the Joker isn't in this chapter...but another major character makes an appearance! And this is a longer chapter than the last one, so hopefully it will make up for it! I'll be posting chapter 3 probably a little later tonight...I'm having trouble thinking of a title.**

**And here's a quick note about the italics that will be used frequently throughout the story. Italics that are boxed in (have line breaks in between them) are flashbacks. And then of course there is the use of Julia's thoughts and possibly even nightmares that are just straight in italics. Does the make since? Hopefully it does! :D**

**Disclaimer:**

**Lieutenant Gordon belongs to DC Comics  
Julia Brighton belongs to me! :)**

_Silence. That is all that could be heard except for the tap, tap, tapping and my steady breathing. I preferred it this way, I always have. There is nothing more relaxing than my own incomplete thoughts traveling from my mind, coming together piece by piece as they make their way down my arms to the tips of my fingers, emerging fully formed in all their glory._

_I felt content. My blank easel was slowly coming to life with rich colors and never ending creativity. Nothing could stop me, not even the demon of procrastination in its feeble attempts to hold me back until it released me, jeering at my many sleepless nights that would lie ahead of me._

_No, that wouldn't happen. Not this time._

_I could distantly hear the opening and closing of a door in the back of my scrambled mind, hardly registering its existence. That is, until I heard a voice. The one that would forever remain in my thoughts until the day I to join it in supposed everlasting peace._

"_Julia, are you ready to go to lunch?"_

_Damn. Though the demon of procrastination may not have been succeeding, the monster of distraction reared its ugly head, sniffing the air thoughtfully, in search of easy prey._

_Ha! I wouldn't go down without a fight!_

"_Hold on…just a few more minutes," I called back, not willing to quit now. "Senior Thesis."_

_The voice gave a teasing, exasperated sigh, "You know it's not due for months, right?"_

"_Had ideas…needed to write them down," the use of my choppy words being an easy surrender for the voice down the hall._

"_Okay, okay," it chuckled, recognizing my habits when I'm "in the zone" as the voice liked to call it. "I'll just help myself to a Pepsi in the kitchen."_

"_Fine," I called, then added in a whisper, "That's perfectly fine."_

_A few minutes later, I was finally finished for now. My painting of words were halfway to becoming a masterpiece. Flexing my cramped fingers, I leaned back slowly; resembling a cat by the way I stretched. It is then I realized how hungry I was upon hearing a low grumbling erupting from my stomach._

"_Kay, I'm done."_

"_Finally," came the familiar, playful tone. "If you weren't finished soon, I probably would have passed out from hunger desperation."_

_I let out a snort, shaking my head. "Oh, stop being so dramatic, that's my job." I grabbed assorted items and stuffed them into my purse, glancing at the shadow of the voice making its way down the hall to my door._

"_True. I guess that means you're rubbing off on me, Julia." Laughter filled the room, signaling the arrival of my lunch mate._

_Ignoring the insult, I asked, "So where do you want to go? I've heard that new café in town has the best…" I couldn't complete my thought, for I had fully turned to the source of that playful voice. My eyes widened in horror, the once beautiful, gentle face wasn't the one I once knew. It had changed, changed to what I last saw on that fateful night._

_The head was bent at an impossibly awkward angle, supported by a body that had ribs penetrating through clothes with bits of flesh attached. But the face was so much worse. It was covered in multiple lacerations and drying blood. _

_I backed up against the wall when the disfigured person came forward. My blood turned to ice as it halted, feet away from me. All I could do was shake my head, silently begging my now dead friend to go away. _

_When its mouth opened, blood escaped and a scream could be heard. My scream. But I was doing nothing but trembling and continuing to shake my head at a faster pace. _

_This wasn't real. It couldn't be real. _

_Wake up. Just wake up. Come on, Julia. Wake up. Wake up!_

"WAKE UP!" I forced myself out of one of the many recurring nightmares I had endured the past three months. The covers were tangled around my body, which was drenched in sweat and tears.

I rubbed my eyes, trying to make the horrific image disappear. That face, that distorted face. And it was all my fault, I am the one who was responsible. Why couldn't anyone else see that?

* * *

"_Stop placing blame on yourself, Julia dear. No one could have seen this coming."_

"_Miss Brighton, it was an accident, nothing more. Now that young man will have to live with this for the rest of his life. There is nothing else you can do."_

"_We just have to believe that God will watch over our child. It's best we all move on, Julia." _

* * *

Move on. That's what I was trying to do. It sounded so simple, but it was so hard. I couldn't just wash away the guilt, it contaminated me.

Would I ever be at peace?

Looking at the clock on my nightstand, I saw it was a little after four in the morning. Even if I could fall back to sleep, I didn't want to. The nightmare would just continue. It always did.

So what would it be, lie there and mope or actually get stuff done?

Untangling myself from the covers, I made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Pulling one of many Japanese steakhouse glasses from the dented cabinets and filling it with the cool, refreshing liquid, I overlooked my progress. This room and the bathroom were completed and my bedroom was halfway done. I had worked nonstop, but what else was there to do? The only break I had gotten was a phone call from my brother.

* * *

_I was in the middle of scrubbing down the cabinets when my phone burst into joyful song, quite the contrary to my current mood._

_Without bothering to see who it was, I answered tiredly, "Hello?"_

"_Hey there, Copperhead!" I giggled; glad to hear Justin's voice._

"_Hiya, Black Mamba!"_ _We broke into laughter at the use of our nicknames we had gotten after watching the movie Kill Bill, our hair colors being a big influence._

"_So, did the movers give you any trouble?"_

_I sighed, explaining everything that had happened. When I had finished, I could almost hear the steam pouring out of my older brother's ears._

"_What was I thinking, letting them move you to Gotham? I should've just driven you myself. We probably could have fit everything into my car, maybe even Kat's. Yeah, that probably would have worked better, taking three cars up. God, I'm an idiot! I'm gonna call those assholes right now and-"_

"_Justin,"_ _I said, talking over his ramblings._ _"We've talked about this before. You and Kat both had to work and there's no sense in getting someone to watch Oliver and Kimmy. I made it here alright. I'm twenty-five you know. I'm not a little girl anymore."_

_I heard a slight involuntary chuckle escape him. "I know. It's just…" his voice cracked and I could tell he was trying to hold back tears. "I guess you'll always be the little sister I had to protect when she would hear monsters under her bed at night. And it- it's been so hard after Mom died."_

_There was nothing we could do except break down and cry. I wish he hadn't mentioned Mom, but sometimes it was unavoidable. Her death hit us hard, it was so unexpected. She had developed lung cancer after years of smoking but she eventually quit. Though only a few months after she received her diagnosis, she was taken from us. She was so young too, only in her fifties. I had gotten the news during my afternoon theatre class in my first year of graduate school. We were rehearsing for our spring production, a comedy. It was my favorite play, Don't Dress For Dinner and I had the lead role. My mom promised she would be there. She was always supportive of me; she was the only parent I'd truly known. And she was gone._

_After minutes of listening to each other's tears, Justin eventually said, "Please tell me you didn't leave those guys a tip, did you?"_

_I laughed at his sudden question. What else could I do? "I did actually. Ten dollars each."_

_He groaned as I continued to laugh, tears still traveling down my face. But this time, it was filled with a different emotion._

"_Julia, I swear. Sometimes you are too nice for your own damn good!" _

_My laugh grew increasingly louder, I couldn't help it. "Yeah, well you know movers don't get paid very much. But you'll be happy to know I told them off when they wouldn't accept the money."_ _I told him about the ass comment I had made, which caused him to join me in fits of laughter._

"_Oh…my God, Julia!"_ _he cried out in between breaths. "Sweet, quiet little Julia, actually said that to those two movers!" He was now having trouble breathing, as was I. "That temper of yours can come out of nowhere sometimes! It must be the red hair."_

* * *

I smiled as I made my way into the small living room. Justin was always looking out for me, being the typical, over-protective big brother. It warmed my fractured heart to know he was always watching out for me, no matter how many states separated us.

Until the sun came up, I only worked on small tasks: dusting off shelves, organizing my collection of DVDs according to genre, grouping my countless number of books side by side, and placing photographs of family and friends around the room. As the sun rose over Gotham's skyline, my bare apartment was already starting to look more comfortable.

When the sky had turned from a painting of vibrant colors to its normal blue, the sounds of occupants could be heard from all around me. I took it as my cue to begin the noisier tasks. I vacuumed the entire apartment and put furniture in its proper place.

Looking at the clock, I was shocked to discover it was almost noon. I had an appointment at the bank at one thirty, so I needed to hurry. After gobbling leftover delivery pizza from last night, I jumped into the shower. It felt so refreshing; I could have stayed under there all day and let the warm water soothe my aching, tired muscles.

As I left the apartment, I noticed some other residents chatting with each other in the hallway, all of them looking exhausted and anxious.

Deciding it was best to try and be friendly, I smiled. "Hello," I said to them. My greeting wasn't returned; some of them barely glanced in my direction, acknowledging my existence. Others, however, looked me over with stares of annoyance. As if my kind, courteous salutation was an insult to this dark city.

Feeling embarrassment rise in my cheeks, I hurried to my faithful car, thankful to have something familiar guide me through traffic.

Even though I made it to the bank on time, it didn't matter. My accountant was running late due to a meeting, so I just sat in a stiff chair, readjusting myself constantly out of boredom. After almost an hour of waiting, she finally arrived, hurrying towards me with her hand outstretched.

"I am so sorry to have kept you waiting, Miss Brighton," she gasped, out of breath but somehow managing to smile pleasantly. "I had a meeting on the other side of town that ran overtime." Her bright expression quickly became grim, "With all of these bank robberies popping up out of nowhere, we need to come up with better security if we can."

Sensing my nervousness, she quickly changed tactics. "Now, as you know, my name is Tiffany McArthur and I'll be helping you start your new life in the city of Gotham easily and worry free."

It really wasn't that bad. I could tell Tiffany had years of experience, she told me all the ups and downs of different plans. She was very knowledgeable and patiently explained everything to me, it being obvious that math was never my strong subject in school. Even though we had finished quicker than I had anticipated, we continued to talk for quite awhile. When I asked her about the robberies, she looked uneasy and hastily changed the subject. We talked about our families and she inquired about the job I was taking here in Gotham. Tiffany seemed genuinely interested; I could tell she wanted me to be as comfortable as possible while making this difficult transition in my life.

Maybe there was hope for Gotham after all.

Exiting the bank, I noticed the five o'clock traffic was already beginning to pour out onto the streets. I wanted to stop by the grocery store before it got dark, I was already having trouble navigating myself through the city as it was, having no light would be a nightmare. Even though I had gotten lost for a little bit, a kind father with his children happily pointed me in the right direction. The reassurance of the citizens in Gotham City was slowly going up.

The parking lot was packed, but I somehow managed to squeeze into a space between two SUV's. After a bit of a walk, I was greeted by a blast of cold air as I walked through the sliding doors. I was probably there a good half an hour, my cart being full to the rim with food. Scanning the long lines accompanying the registers, I was fortunate enough to find one that only had a pair being waited on.

As my mind began to wander, I heard the bagger say impatiently, "Ma'am, this line is closed."

I blinked and glanced up. Sure enough, the light had been turned off. "Sorry, I didn't realize it."

The cashier, who had been looking at me as if I was stupid, muttered, "Well how about you pay more attention next time?"

I could feel a biting retort make its way to the tip of my tongue, but I held it back. No need to cause a scene.

Finally, I pushed the cart loaded with bags to my car, eager to get home. When I was a few feet away, I noticed something was terribly wrong.

"Oh please, no," I begged, quickening my pace. Reaching my beloved car, I buried my face into my arms, trying so hard not to cry.

My tires had been slashed.

I took deep breaths of air, trying not to have an emotional breakdown. How could someone have done this? Why would they be so cruel? I dug through my purse, trying to retrieve my cell phone. Before I began to dial for the police, I saw something across the street. I pushed the cart forward, hardly believing my luck.

There, about a yard from me, was an off duty police car. The man inside was sipping a cup of coffee, wearily scanning the streets out of habit.

I began to push my cart forward, but stopped almost instantly. Was it really wise to leave all of this food here, a free gift to any wandering citizens? But why go to all that trouble if he's so close? Biting my lip, I debated the possibilities, neither one seeming like a good idea.

Deciding the cart would be in view, I rushed towards the car, careful to dodge oncoming vehicles making their way home. When I was about a foot away, I noticed the man was now engrossed in papers, seemingly unaware of anything else.

Timidly, I tapped on the glass. He gave a small start, his brown moustache twitching. Seeing that I was only a citizen and not someone who could do him harm, he rolled down the window, his eyes examining me behind black frames.

"Yes miss, what can I do for you?" His face, lined with proof of his years in the force, was kind, which reassured me that I was not interrupting him.

"I'm sorry to bother you, officer," I began, not really knowing what to say. I had never reported to the police once in my entire life. But this man gave me a small smile, giving me the confidence to continue.

"Um…I don't know if you can help me or not…" That was stupid; of course he could help me. He's an officer of the law for crying out loud! "I…um…I was in the grocery store for about a half an hour and when I got to my car I saw that…" I gulped, feeling hot tears bordering my eyes, threatening to fall. "…I saw that my tires were slashed."

_It's not a big deal. People get their tires slashed everyday. It can be fix, then my car will be as good as new. It's not a big deal at all._

I took a deep breath, proud that I could control my tears for once.

He sighed heavily, looking at me with pity. Getting out, he asked, "Where is you're car, miss?"

Leading the way, we both crossed the street, its traffic having died down considerably. When we reached my silver car, he immediately knelt down, examining the shredded black pieces of rubber with a flashlight. He worked his way to the other side, the other two sharing an equal fate.

"Well miss, we're going to have to get a tow truck to come down here and take it to be fixed. But that won't be anything to worry about," He smiled encouragingly up at me. "You should consider yourself fortunate. A lot of people get so much worse. Windows shattered…" He had pressed his hand onto my door in order to help himself up when he stopped abruptly. He shined the flashlight on the car door, his brow furrowed.

"Miss, did you see this?"

My heart began to sink. What else could have happened to my car? Making my way around and standing next to him, I could make out words sketched into the paint:

_Welcome to Gotham._

I couldn't hold it in any longer, I began to weep. Not only at the destruction of my sixteenth birthday present, but at the successful intention to spread despair.

I felt like such a child, crying in front of an officer like this, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't seem to mind though, for he placed a comforting arm around my shoulders. His action surprised me, but I didn't mind. I needed this consolation after two days in this awful city.

After I had calmed down, he asked me basic information, writing it all down while I held the flashlight for him. When he finished, he radioed a "Detective Stephens" to come and wait for a towing company. Turning to me, he said, "If you'd like I would be more than happy to take you home."

I gave him a watery smile, "Thank you, but I can just get a cab. I don't want to take up anymore of your time."

"It's no trouble at all," He walked to the cart and placed his worn hands on it, ready to guide it to his car. "There is no sense in punishing yourself by paying a cab driver to get yourself home. Really, I insist."

Rummaging through my purse, I realized I didn't have enough money to pay a driver anyway. I nodded silently, taking him up on his offer.

Without another word, he pushed the cart down the parking lot and across the street with me trailing behind. I was speechless when he opened the trunk and began to place the groceries in. I moved towards him in an attempt to stop him from further kindness but he waved me off politely, continuing his good deed.

When it was finished, he opened the back door for me and said he would be back in a few minutes. I watched him take my cart back up to the store and then stand next to my car, as if waiting for someone. Sure enough, another police car pulled up to him. The cop got out and judging from the distance he was kind of big and hulky. After shaking hands with the other man, my savior got into the car and asked me where I lived.

"So my guess is you just moved here, right Miss Brighton?" He glanced up at the rearview mirror, smiling at me.

"Just yesterday, actually," I smiled back despite the circumstances. He was so friendly.

"And judging from your license plates, would I be correct in saying that you're from southern Virginia?"

"Close. I'm from the southwestern part of the state. How could you tell?" I added jokingly.

"The accent gave it away," he winked at me and I kept on smiling. I really wished all cops were like him.

When we made it to my apartment building, he opened the door for me and then proceeded to take the bags out of the trunk. Again, when I made a move to stop him he shook his head, asking which number I was.

Together, we made only a couple of trips up and down the stairs. I was so happy that my apartment wasn't a huge disaster, which would have been embarrassing. He offered to help me put the food away, but this time I flat out refused.

"You've done more than enough, officer. I think I can take it from here. But is there anyway I can repay you?"

"I think I can come up with something," he said, making his way to the door. "From now on, feel free to call me Lieutenant Gordon."

"Will do. But hopefully I won't be needing your assistance in the future."

"Let's hope not," he agreed. "Have a good night, Miss Brighton. And make sure you try to get everything done before it gets dark if you can help it."

I nodded, unwilling to break my promise. "Thank you for everything, Lieutenant Gordon."

I watched him make his way down the stairs, aware of the grey hairs beginning to streak through his hair. I could only hope that he was on his way home, getting a much deserved rest.


	3. Comme une Amie, Comme une Soeur

**Alrighty, here's Chapter 3, as promised. I also posted title names for the chapters, I just figured out how to do it. XD This one**** is French and it translates as Like a Friend, Like a Sister. You'll see why it is that way when you read it. :D**

**In case you were wondering when the Joker will appear (which I'm sure a lot of you guys want to know ;D) this is my plan:**

**I'm thinking Julia will hear about the Joker when she meets the rest of the cast. That will be the next chapter. However, I'm _pretty _sure that they will "meet" face to face in Chapter 5. But I'm not making any promises in case I change my mind. I really want to establish Julia as a character, I want you to sort of get to know her before the Joker is thrust into her life. So thank you for your patience. **

**Happy reading!**

**Disclaimer:  
****  
Julia Brighton belongs to me.**

After Lieutenant Gordon had left, I tried to distract myself from the sadness and anger I felt towards Gotham by organizing my food. I probably took longer than it was necessary, but I didn't want to dwell on my misfortune any longer.

_Just be thankful you have car insurance _I told myself over and over.

True, but what if it kept happening? They would eventually stop paying for it.

_Don't think about that. Just try to get everything done before it gets dark._

And then what would I do? Hide under my blanket until daylight? What if I made friends and they wanted to take me out to a movie or something? I couldn't say, "Sorry but I can't because one time my car got vandalized and I don't want to risk having that happen again".

No thank you. I didn't want to be a coward.

I walked into the living room and stared dismally at my TV. The cable guy wouldn't be coming for another two days and I was already beginning to have symptoms from that forsaken illness everyone suffers at on time or another.

Movie Withdrawal.

I supposed I could always watch something on my laptop but it just wasn't the same. It's always so much better to see a movie on a big screen. Oh well though, beggars can't be choosers.

As I was examining my huge selection of movies I had obtained over the years, my cell phone rang happily, much to my annoyance.

I really needed to change my ring tone. I thought a chipper tune would lift my spirits when I was down. Well, it wasn't doing its job very well.

Again ignoring the caller ID, I answered distractedly.

"Bonjour, mon amie!" came a wonderfully familiar voice. I squealed excitedly, my mood changing instantly. The one person I truly wanted to talk to had finally called, and she had great timing!

"Salut, Jackie! Comme ça va?" I greeted my life long friend, continuing a tradition the two of us followed when we found out we were both taking French at our high schools.

"Tres bien! Et toi?"

"Mmm…comme ci comme ça," I shrugged. Sure, I had gotten there in one piece and I guess my meeting at the bank went okay. And Lieutenant Gordon was nice but other than that…? Not so great.

I had a feeling Jackie knew I was hiding something, for she continued to probe me, "You're sure? You made it to Gotham alright, didn't you?"

"Oh oui, of course," I stuttered quickly. My good mood was quickly evaporating. For some reason that I couldn't explain, I didn't want to tell Jackie what happened outside the grocery store. "I mean, the movers gave me a bit of a hard time and all that but…"

I didn't want to lie to her. We'd been through so much together over the course of our lives. There had been many tears shed over the phone by both parties, and every single time we were there to comfort each other.

No, I couldn't tell her. She didn't call just so she could here me blubbering. She'd already dealt with that during those three months.

"But everything else went great," I finished, gritting my teeth in a forced grin. Upon hearing a low sigh, I could almost see Jackie shaking her head. Like a true friend should, she saw right through my pretense.

"Julia, we've been friends pretty much forever. Now, I know you're an actress and you can conceal your emotions but don't forget I'm one too. Please, just tell me what happened."

No. I was not going to tell her. She didn't want to hear about it.

_Then why did she ask?_

If I had to tell someone, she'd be the best person to do so. Justin would drive up immediately and do everything in his power to track down the perpetrators. And Kat would plead with me to come back to Virginia.

Jackie would listen to me, comfort me. Would it be that bad to tell her?

"I…I uh went to the grocery store today and when I got to my car I saw that…Um, I saw." I couldn't do it. This was so pathetic. Who moves to a new city and finds their car maliciously damaged after only two days?

I became aware of the sobs escaping my throat. There was no going back now. "My tires had been slashed!" I was not even sure if she had heard me, I said it so quickly between shaky breaths.

"Oh Julia," Jackie whispered. I knew if she were here, she would sit right beside me and put her arms around my shoulders and gently rub one side while lying her head on the other. She'd stay that way until I calmed down enough and she would back away, returning to her original place. She would remain attentive, watching me with her wide, sympathetic eyes. It was her way of giving comfort.

How I missed it so, so much.

All that I could do while I told her what happened was collapse onto the floor and put one arm around myself. It wasn't very comfortable, but I was content with having my dear friend listening to me.

When I finished and was gasping for air, I heard Jackie breathe another sigh, "Oh Julia, I'm so very sorry." What else was there to say? There was nothing she could really do.

"Why would someone do that, Jackie?" I nearly screamed hysterically. "I don't know what I did that made them so angry!"

"You probably didn't do anything, Jules. There are just some people in the world who like to cause mean spiritedness. There truly is really no reasoning behind it; they love to feed on someone else's pain."

"Jackie," I whispered weakly. I was now beginning to shake uncontrollably and had trouble breathing through my nose. "I – I want to go home!"

Like a friend, Jackie was always so understanding and was there for me. But like a sister, she could turn on a dime and fuss at me.

"Uh-huh. No way, Julia, you are not going to give up like that!" She was getting pretty frustrated and my mouth fell open slightly in surprise.

"But nothing like this happens where we lived. Everyone is so nice and you know I can get a job there easily," I argued back, kind of shocked that she wasn't being a little more compassionate.

"Gotham consists of more than a million people. Our city doesn't even have a hundred thousand. So of course there will be more crime than you are used to. But that doesn't mean you should give up. You decided to come to Gotham to escape the hurt and loss you experienced. And you're just going to call it quits because some jerk decided to use your car for his own sick amusement?"

I blinked, not being able to think of a comeback. Yup, Jackie could truly be like a sister a lot of the time. We tended to give each other a hard time, but sometimes it was for the best.

"Okay, answer this for me, Julia. How long will it take to rehearse and perform the play?"

Well that was somewhat unexpected. "I don't know, I think my director said a month and a half," I answered, not really sure where she was going with this.

"Alright, that's not too long," she muttered to herself before addressing me again. "Over the next month and a half, I want you to have the best experience you can in Gotham. Try to have fun, explore the city, make new friends. Then after your last performance, I want you to make a decision. You can either stay in Gotham if you eventually start liking it or move back home. Maybe even move to a different city if you want to. That's one of the beauties of acting. You don't have to stay in one place for too long.

"Can you do that for me, Julia? Please try to stay for just a month and a half. You promised your director you would do this, don't back out now. Show Gotham City what a true star you really are!"

I laughed at the last thing she said. It sounded really corny, but it made so much sense.

"Okay Jackie, I'll try this out. But only if you promise to come down from New York and see a performance, alright?"

"I wouldn't miss it for the world! I'll come opening night if you want."

"Yeah, you can come over and spend the night so you don't have to waste money in some hotel. It'll be fun!"

"Most definitely!" She laughed along with me until she stopped abruptly.

"You- you haven't had any more nightmares have you?"

My heart sank; I had hoped this wouldn't come up. "Yeah, last night. The one before we went to lunch."

"Not again. Why do you keep having these dreams?" None of us said anything for awhile; we were lost in our own thoughts.

"What did you do with your memory box?" She questioned suddenly.

"It's under my bed," I moaned, understanding what she was getting at.

"Okay, do you have a closet you can put it in? One that isn't in your room?"

"Yeah, there's one in the living room."

"As soon as we hang up, put it in there," she said without a pause. "I don't think you should look in it for awhile if you can help it."

I nodded sadly, "Alright, I'll try."

"I think it will help you, Jules. I don't want you to have anymore nightmares. It wasn't your fault and you need to stop punishing yourself for it."

I didn't answer because she was wrong. It _was_ my fault. How come nobody could see that?

"I know what will make you feel better," she said knowingly. "Did you buy anything to put into your freezer?"

That was a weird question. "Yes…"

"Did you buy any ice cream?"

Ahh. The point emerges. "Yup!" I responded slyly.

"And is it our absolute favorite ice cream ever?" She took forever to get to the point sometimes, but I didn't really mind.

"I sure did!"

"Well then, you know what you have to do! Pop in our all time favorite movie, The Producers, and eat a whole carton of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia. That should make you feel much better!"

"I think I'll do just that," I smiled and skipped over to the refrigerator. There, in all its glory, was the best ice cream ever! I peeled off the top excitedly. It looked so perfect. I pulled out the biggest spoon I had in my drawer and immediately stuffed my face.

"Julia, what are you doing?! You're actually going to eat it over the phone? How can you be so cruel?"

I started to chuckle but unfortunately; I had already placed a big spoonful in my mouth. The result was a major brain freeze!

I screamed with my mouth closed, frantically rubbing my tongue on the roof of my mouth. When the painful sensation retreated, I rounded on her. "Go get some out of your own freezer, you lazy bum!"

She clicked her tongue in fake annoyance, "I would, but I don't have any."

I gasped, "Jackie, that's a sin! How could you? You know what; I'll send some to you telepathically." I paused, using the time to take another bite. "Did you get it?"

"Mmm. Yes, I did. Thanks, Jules!"

"It's no trouble." I rolled my eyes playfully. Jackie had once tempted me with a brownie she was eating over the phone, causing me to be jealous. As a joke she said she would send it to me telepathically and ever since it became one of our inside jokes. It's funny how we came up with that in middle school and have kept it for all those years.

"I guess I should let you go enjoy your movie and snack," Jackie sighed. "But let me know the performance dates so I can come and see you!"

"Will do. Thanks for calling, Jackie."

"My pleasure, Julia. Au voir!"

"À bientôt!" I hung up the phone and went to get The Producers from the comedy section. While I waited for it to load on my laptop, I headed over to my pictures and picked one up.

Smiling at the camera were me and Jackie. The picture had been snapped by a friendly Parisian, the two of us posing in front of the Eiffel Tower. We had made a promise that when we graduated from college, we would spend two weeks in France, the birthplace of both our ancestors.

We had thought we wouldn't be seeing each other for a long time since we would be going to different graduate schools. But about a month before school began, Jackie changed institutions, deciding my choice school had a better musical theatre program. While she attended classes consisting of singing and dance, I performed in front of the camera. She had tried to convince me to take voice lessons for many years, but that was never something I truly wanted to do. I was only comfortable with performing on the stage with no music involved whatsoever.

I remembered that day perfectly. After we spent a few hours at the Louvre and ate a quick lunch in a nearby café, we decided it was time for us to go the top of Paris's most famous landmark. The man behind the camera had said, "Dites fromage!" the French way of "Say cheese!" That caused us to laugh out loud, which turned out so wonderful in the picture.

Arms around each other, we truly looked like we could be twins. She was only an inch taller than me, her strawberry blonde locks clashing similarly with my copper hair.

Looking at my favorite picture of the two of us, I remembered what she wanted me to do. I went to my room to retrieve my cherished box stashed with memories. With a heavy heart, I took it to the living room closet and placed it on the highest shelf.

"I'll never forget you," I whispered, wondering if I could be heard from heaven.

I gently shut the door and placed my laptop on the coffee table. My ice cream had already begun to melt but I didn't care. All I wanted to do was spend my last unemployed night in a good mood.

Deciding to get comfortable, I changed into warm pajamas. Carrying a bowl of buttery popcorn and a warm mug of hot chocolate, I seated myself on my comfortable couch and played the movie.

Jackie always knew how to make me feel better. Sometimes I found it hard to believe we had been friends for so many years. Usually people who are best friends move on to a different crowd by high school. But maybe what helped keep our friendship intact was us attending different schools. And of course, we had the same love and passion for acting.

We always promised each other that she would attend my first movie premiere and I would travel to New York to see her in her first Broadway show. I would be in the audience when she received a Tony Award and she when I won an Oscar.

We would be friends to the day we grew frail and wrinkly and can't remember anything else but each other. Jackie and I shared one of those rare friendships that would last until the day we die. And I planned on making sure that nothing and no one would ever tear us apart.


	4. Estrangement and Acceptance

**Alrighty, this is the _last _chapter before the Joker comes! Woot! But this is a very important chapter because Julia gets some major character development at the beginning...and it will be very significant a little later in the story. **

**Also, even though the Joker isn't in this chapter in the flesh...there might be a surprise for you guys at the end... ;D**

**Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:  
****  
****Julia Brighton belongs to me :)  
The Plays: The Actor's Nightmare, The Funeral Parlor, and Medea belong to Christoper Durang  
**

I swallowed down the nervousness that had been creeping up my throat continually as I applied eye shadow that perfectly matched my dress. I'd always been like this, fearing the unknown. It was the same exact fear I had felt before starting my first day of high school and college. Nightmares plagued my sleep with scenarios that ended badly, like when I dreamt I was late for my first job interview because I had gotten lost. Thankfully, none of them ever came true, but it was enough to keep me on edge the whole day.

In my most recent dream, the other cast members treated me like I was in high school again. Back then, my classmates would hardly speak to me. I only existed when my lines became a cue to those who spoke next.

I was invisible.

Jackie was always there for moral support when I called frequently, in tears. She told me that they were more than likely jealous of my talent, to which I would scoff, always underestimating my ability.

I had been perpetually and painfully shy all my life. Only when someone got to know me and I them would I let down my defenses. The walls making up the façade I had constructed from an early age had to be demolished.

Sometimes, I questioned why I kept doing this to myself. And I answered the same way every time: it's a trust issue. Letting someone into my heart was risky. What if they hurt me? Could I survive the pain?

I held my father accountable for this. When he was married to Mom, he was hardly ever home. And when the divorce became finalized (I was two) I didn't see him again until age eleven. Sure, there was the occasional phone call on my birthday and Christmas, but I always felt that the voice on the other end was a mysterious stranger.

Finally, after many years of wondering why my father never came to see me, I had the courage to ask him to come down and visit during spring break. He agreed. I was ecstatic; I would be meeting my father for the first time face to face. But I had gotten more than I bargained for. He decided to bring along his current and sixth wife, Sheryl. I believe they had just gotten married, for they had nothing but eyes for each other, exchanging passionate kisses often. It felt like I was living the expression "two's company, three's a crowd".

And for some reason I could never explain, I was in unrelenting dread that he was going to kidnap me. Maybe it was because I was always so close to Mom and I didn't want to be taken from her. I would never breathe calmly until I was back home and they drove off to the hotel. Yet, after this three day visit, the ensuing phone calls became more frequent. Two years later, it was my turn to pay a visit.

If the first one had been bad, the second was a nightmare. I was immutably homesick and my father allowed me to call Mom whenever I needed to. However, on my last night there, he yelled at me after I talked to Mom for no more than fifteen minutes. We walked back the hotel, my father fuming and I sobbing. I truly think the only reason he apologized was because he received concerned stares from fellow pedestrians. It was like I was an embarrassment to him.

We said goodbye on a bitter note the next day, Sheryl firmly keeping up with the silent treatment she began the night before. But for some reason, the phone calls continued, much to my aggravation. The conversations were tedious and repetitive. They were like reruns of a boring sitcom that was bound and determined to earn high ratings even though its two leading stars had lost the enthusiasm that never truly existed.

Then, a few months after my eighteenth birthday, I made a decision. I explained to him that we both needed to work on our relationship because I didn't know who he was, and he most certainly didn't know the real me. I had expected my father to understand, to say, "You're right, Julia. You haven't had a father in your life, let's start again".

I had never been more incorrect in my entire life. Instead of taking responsibility for his actions, he blamed me for our superficial relationship. He failed to understand that it's not the child's job to establish a relationship with their parents. He had the choice to still be there in his daughter's life, but he didn't. I had enough courage to ask him why he never came down to visit me when I was little, why I had to be the one to initiate everything. He never did answer my question, even though I told him repeatedly, "I am eighteen years old. I am now a woman. I have the right to know".

But my father was very stubborn; he kept placing the blame on me. It seemed as though he was a teenager and I an adult. So I made a decision, I needed to break off contact with my father for a few years. When I told him, he called me immature and said I was doing this because I wasn't getting my way. To which I said, "You're right, I'm not getting my way and I should be".

I explained to him that we needed to end the phone calls, to write no more letters, to no giving gifts for Christmas and birthdays. I told him I would call him when I was twenty two, since we both needed to be mature adults when we tried for a relationship again.

Even though I had said goodbye, my father didn't say any kind of farewell. But we kept our compromise of no communication for all those years. Now halfway through my roaring twenties, I know I broke the promise of contacting him when I graduated from college. I didn't feel the need to have a father then, I was a young adult taking care of myself. College was my home away from home family. And the family I had back in my city was perfect and loving in every way.

I was not even sure if my father was still alive. If so, I supposed he wasn't too heartbroken by my continued renouncement of our connection. I was one less obligation to deal with.

I pushed back an irritable side bang that didn't seem to want to stay in place. I don't know why I thought of my father on this particular day, the separation hadn't affected me for many years.

Taking in my appearance in the full length mirror, I smoothed out undetectable wrinkles and reassured myself over and over.

_It is not going to be like high school, Julia. The director said I will be working with very nice people. No high school cliques to worry about, it's going to be just like graduate school. They will be performers who have a love for acting and are not just seeking fame, fortune, or an ego-boost._

I nodded firmly, covering my dress with a long, black overcoat when I heard the beeping horn of a taxi. The air was frigid and the wind was fierce, much to my chagrin. I somehow managed to run to the cab without twisting my ankle on high heels that I rarely wore and got in the backseat, thankful the heat was on full blast.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, the only words spoken were by the cab driver, inquiring in bored tone my destination, and I answering. I was wringing my hands in my lap, causing my fingers to go slightly numb. To distract myself from my uneasiness, I wondered vaguely what Gotham was like in the spring. Would it be more of the same, or would the citizens of Gotham be friendlier, not so suspicious all the time? Is it even possible for the cold weather to actually be a cause for their behavior? Winter would be over in a few months so I guessed I could wait and see. That is, unless I moved back home.

My nebulous thoughts evaporated when we pulled up to a very exquisite restaurant, Chez Isabelle. I handed the driver a twenty and slid out of the car, not really caring about getting change back. When I walked in, I felt pleasant, warm air begin to surround my body but the chill under my coat remained.

My breath was taken away by the elegant design of this establishment. The walls that made up the lobby were paneled and had an intricate molding pattern. Next to plush loveseats were numerous live plants that gave off a heavenly fragrance. As I walked across the wooden floor to a podium that sat between two columns, I gazed up at the beautiful glass chandelier that took up most of the ceiling. Everything about this place reminded me of buildings in the French Riviera, flawless and elegant.

"Bonsoir, Madame," greeted the host when I reached him. "Do you have a reservation?"

"Yes, sir. It should be under Melia Garber." I was slightly intimidated by the crispness of his tuxedo and his perfectly styled hair.

"Madame Garber," He pursed his lips as his finger trailed down the list of names. "Ah oui, party of nine. If you would follow me, I will take you to the private room where you will be dining." With a well-practiced step, he led me up spiral stairs and into a spacious room with a large, round table.

"Would you like me to take your coat, Madame?" he asked with a slight bow in his stance.

"Not quite yet, thank you," I said, still slightly chilly from the winter weather.

"As you wish," and with that, he made his way to a chair and pulled it out for me and pushed it in ever so carefully when I was seated. "Your waiter will be with you momentarily." With his experience flowing about the room, he exited with a quiet close of the double doors.

I sat there in the silence, half of me relieved that no one was there just yet and the other half wishing I could have someone to talk to. I didn't think I was that early, but not even the director was there yet. Being punctual is always appreciated, but being the first to arrive is slightly awkward.

It wasn't long however that I gave a small start when the doors opened unexpectedly. There stood a petite woman in her mid-forties, her pale blonde hair curling softly just above her neck.

"Mrs. Garber," I smiled as I rose from my seat and met her halfway with a warm handshake. "It's nice to see you again."

"Please Julia, call me Melia," she smiled sweetly, giving me a brief hug that made me feel welcome. "I am absolutely thrilled that you came to Gotham to participate in our show. Did you have any trouble moving in?"

I had this answer prepared. "Everything went very smoothly," I lied confidently. "No problems what so ever." I didn't feel the need to tell her about the misfortune that occurred during my first two days. There was no need to have someone feeling sorry for me.

We both took our places at the table, Melia setting a purse I didn't notice before on the floor. "So, you're right on time." She smiled at the pink that began splotching its way across my face. "That's alright, it means you're reliable and that I can count on you. That is one of the best qualities an actor can have."

Before I could respond, the doors opened, revealing the host escorting a woman around my age into the room. Melia jumped up and gave her an affectionate embrace. "Collette, I'm so happy to see you. Julia, I would like you to meet Collette Laguzza. She was one of my best students when I taught high school."

The woman turned red-faced at her former teacher's praise. "Hi, it's nice to meet you," she said in a thick Gotham City accent. "You're from Virginia, right? The one who will play the Deus ex Machina in Medea?"

As I was about to reply, Melia stopped the two of us. "Now girls, let's save that for when the rest of the cast gets here, alright?" The two of us smiled at each other and made our way to the chairs, Collette choosing a place next to me.

She was actually really easy to talk to and she did her best to make me feel comfortable. It took a little while, but I eventually began to relax and slowly slid into the conversation with ease. We questioned each other on where we went to school while we were waiting for the others to arrive.

Soon enough, a tall woman with black hair and a short, middle age man entered the room and greeted our kind hostess. When they took their places at the table, they gave us a quick grin and went on with their conversation. Then came a quiet blonde woman with oval glasses who took a seat next to Collette and eventually joined us in our discussion on our theatre professors we had in the past.

During the endless chatter, I indistinctly heard someone exclaim, "Corrine!" and I turned my head slightly to see a woman with short brown hair and interesting eyes greet Melia. They were narrowed, but she didn't look too unpleasant. It was very hard to explain, she looked almost bored but enthusiastic at the same time. I perceived a slight ego circling her aura, but she didn't seem too bad.

It had been five or so minutes when I could sense eyes on me. Without turning my head, I glanced at the source that caused my skin to prickle slightly. Until now, I hadn't noticed the final two men joining us. They both sat on opposite sides of the girl named Corrine, one talking animatedly to her. The other, however, was staring right at me. He smiled when he saw that I had noticed him, his enticing blue eyes sparkling flirtatiously. I focused back on Collette and took one of my hands, caressing one finger gently, a nervous habit I had recently developed.

After we were poured magnificent wine and served bread that seemed to melt in my mouth, Melia called us to attention. "Welcome everyone! First off, I would like to congratulate you all for being fortunate enough to join our cast in the three skits we will be performing. As you know, I am Melia Garber. I would like to start off by going around the table and having you introduce yourselves so we can all get better acquainted. And if you would, also tell us what characters you play. Let's start with you, Kevin," she concluded, turning to the man seated on her right. I breathed an inaudible sigh of relief, thankful I wouldn't be going first, as I was to Melia's left.

The man attempted to sit a little taller in his chair without much success. "Hello, everybody. My name is Kevin Wulff and I will be playing George Spelvin in The Actor's Nightmare." He seemed to have a faded Canadian accent and I could tell instantly he would be a lot of fun to act with on stage by his enthused personality.

Sitting next to Kevin was the tall, raven haired woman who told us to call her Kathleen Elkins and mentioned she would be Susan in the Funeral Parlor and a chorus member in Medea.

My heart skipped a beat when it was the blue-eyed mans turn. "How are you guys doing? I'm Richie Silberblatt and I'm going to play Marcus in the Funeral Parlor and the messenger in Medea." He seemed so laidback and casual. I could tell he was still staring at me but I determinedly looked at my lap, continuing to stroke my finger.

Next was the woman with the narrowed eyes. "I'm Corrine Chappelear and I'm thrilled to be playing Sarah Siddons in The Actor's Nightmare." I found this somewhat strange. She said she was thrilled, her eyes however observed us with much stultification. She added quickly, "I also play a chorus member in Medea." Her confidence gushed out before us overwhelmingly. I thought it was quite obvious she was popular amongst the men, but why wasn't the man named Richie Silberblatt staring at her instead of me?

We were halfway there. To Corrine's right was a thin man who introduced himself as Trey MacLeod. He informed us he would be portraying Henry Irving from Nightmare and Jason in Medea by accentuating his words with vibrant hand motions.

The blonde girl, Anna Montgomery, pushed up her glasses and told us that she would be the third and final chorus member.

I could feel my mouth begin to dry so I attempted to moisten it by taking sips from my water goblet. I barely registered it was Collette's turn until she spoke.

"Well, I'm Collette Laguzza and yes that is my real name. I didn't change it from something that was plain and boring to an exotic title when I was legally an adult." This caused all of us, even me, to chuckle. She concluded modestly that she would be playing the title role in Medea.

I took a final swallow before addressing my fellow cast members. "Hello. My name is Julia Brighton." I paused, my mind going blank for a moment. "Um…I'll be Dame Ellen Terry in The Actor's Nightmare and the Deus ex Machina in Medea."

Corrine Chappelear was the first to speak. "Oh, you're the one from Virginia, right? I heard the Machina was type casted."

Before I could respond, Melia spoke for me. "That's right. You see," She placed her elbows on the table as she leaned forward, as if she were telling us a secret. "When I was reading Medea, I instantly knew I wanted someone from the south to play the Deus ex Machina." Everyone gazed at me before turning back to Melia. "Why? Well personally, I think southern people can sound very sweet and bubbly. Did you notice she wasn't from the Deep South? Her accent has just a hint of a southern flair without causing her to sound unintelligent."

Even though I'd spoken to Melia on the phone plenty of times, I was still shocked by her straightforwardness. She wasn't afraid to speak her mind, even if it meant causing someone discomfort.

"So, I traveled down to Virginia in search of the perfect Machina. I'll admit, I was getting very discouraged by all of these women sounding, well quite frankly, like rednecks. But then, this sweet, little woman walked into the room. And just look at her won't you? Doesn't she look positively innocent?"

I could feel every bit of my body quickly fill with boiling heat, but I pulled the coat tighter around myself. I decided to become preoccupied by studying a painting that was directly in front of me in an attempt to ignore the dissecting stares from my coworkers.

"Sorry, but what exactly is a Deus ex Machina?" Surprised, I snapped my head toward the inquisitor, despite the fact that it was actually blue-eyed, Richie Silberblatt. He was focused on Melia and it seemed as though he was trying to direct the attention away from me.

"Well in theatre terms, the Deus ex Machina means "god from the machinery"." Collette was actually the one who ended up speaking. She sat up in her chair a little straighter, as if she were a college student ready to impress the class and professor by her vast intelligence. "So in this case, the Machina is a person who is lowered by stage machinery in order to help the protagonist resolve a difficult situation. A guardian angel, if you will."

Melia nodded her head vigorously, "That's why you were always one of my favorite students, Collette. Not only are you talented, you are very knowledgeable."

As soon as the words left her, waiters appeared into the room carrying silver dishes that contained our meals. Melia had encouraged us to order whatever we liked since the Gotham Theatre would be paying for it.

I took a bite of my chicken cordon bleu and chewed it appreciatively, savoring its delectable taste. It was then I realized my coat made my arms slightly stiff, causing me to have a little trouble maneuvering the utensils. I shrugged it off and was about to drape it over my chair when I heard Corrine emit a startled scream and the sound of broken glass.

Looking up, I saw everyone was gazing wide-eyed at my dress. Trey didn't seem aware of his shattered goblet and the deep, red wine flowing over the delicate table cloth. Kathleen was taking a long gulp from her water glass and I suspected from her nonstop coughing that she was trying to rid bits of food that were stuck in her throat. Richie stared at me, almost as if he couldn't believe his eyes. I noticed that even Collette was scooting her chair ever so slightly away from me, not looking too pleased with the seating arrangements all of the sudden.

"What the hell do you think you're wearing?" Kevin actually screeched, looking very afraid.

I looked down at my plum purple dress, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

Corrine snarled at me, "Do you support a murdering madman or something?"

I didn't understand what was going on. Was this some cruel prank they decided to play since I wasn't from around here? Once more, Melia came to my rescue.

"Everyone, calm down right now. Julia, put your coat back on."

I obeyed and the coat was on me in half a second. As I finished buttoning up, the host dashed in.

"Is everything all right?" He gasped, his usual indifferent expression faltering into startled-ness.

Melia breathed a small sigh, giggling slightly. "I'm so sorry, sir. One of my actresses thought she saw a cockroach and everyone panicked. But, it turned out to be nothing." She looked very convincing; it was enough for the host to replace Trey's wine and clean up the table before leaving us.

Turning to me, Melia asked quietly, "Julia, what made you decide to wear purple tonight?"

I felt so confused; I didn't understand what the big deal was.

"Um…well purple has always been my favorite color. It rebuilds my confidence and I feel that I can accomplish anything when I wear it." I wasn't sure if this answer would suffice, especially since Corrine was now sending me a death glare.

Melia was looking at me with pity and I could detect a sense of understanding in her eyes. "You haven't watched the news since you've moved here, have you? Or read a newspaper?"

I shook my head. "I usually do but my TV won't be hooked up until tomorrow and honestly, I've been too busy fixing up my apartment to even think about purchasing a newspaper."

I still couldn't see what wearing purple had to do with all of this fear everyone was sending out.

Melia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Since you've just moved here and you didn't know any better, I'm going to ask everyone to forgive you. This isn't your fault; I should have explained to you before you even came to Gotham.

You know very well about the crime that has infested this city. Well, there is one who is making his way to the top. He started off with little things, robbing banks so he could come into the spotlight. We all thought he would go away eventually, after he had his fun. But he keeps coming back, leaving behind bloodshed in his wake. He kills people for his own sick amusement. And everyone is soaking up the terror he spills.

He calls himself the Joker. This is because he always leaves behind a joker playing card at every crime scene. He also wears the same costume: a purple overcoat with matching pants. So everyone mutually agreed to forgo the color purple, along with green because he also wears a green vest underneath the coat."

When Melia finished, I was at a complete loss for words. How could I have been so ignorant? I never would have worn the dress if I had known. Why didn't I just pick up a stupid newspaper when I was at the grocery store the previous night?

This man, the Joker, instills so much trepidation into this city his two choice colors have been shunned. Corrine referred to him as a madman. I found myself wanting to know more about this supposed lunatic, this information not completely satisfying me. But I didn't want to push it.

I swallowed down the lump that was building in my throat before speaking. "I am really sorry. I honestly would not have worn this if I wasn't so oblivious to what was going on in this city. All I can say is that I was too distracted with moving in to clearly take in my surroundings, which isn't a good excuse for what I have done. But I can promise you this, as soon as I get back to my apartment, I am going to put all of my purple outfits in the back of my closet and not wear them because I do not want to offend anyone else while I am residing in Gotham."

Not really sure if my apology would be accepted, I felt relieved nonetheless. I was at peace with myself for clearing this up. It was an honest mistake, even if it wasn't inevitable.

The angry glares were slowly disappearing and were replaced by uncertainty. I think they believed me, but they were feeling kind of bad for their unpleasant outburst. Then an arm managed to reach across the table towards me. It was Richie Silberblatt, his beautiful, blue topaz eyes causing the world to go still for just a moment. I touched his warm, soft hand and took it away quickly, glad I had not felt the shock of electricity I expected to experience. Everyone took it as their cue to show me their restored faith. Most held out their own hands while Collette gave me a quick hug. These gestures were small, but they made me feel so much better. I was determined to prove myself to them; I wasn't going to be ignorant any longer.

Melia was now combing through her purse until she pulled out a sheet of paper and placed it in the middle of the table. It was the advertisement for our performances called "An Afternoon of Scenes". Below each of the play's titles was an illustration depicting a scene.

"What can you tell me about this poster?" Melia questioned softly. After moments of gazing, Anna was the one who spoke up.

"It looks kind of depressing despite the fact they are comedies. I'm guessing that's supposed to be George Spelvin from The Actor's Nightmare on the left. He looks scared and confused, but not in a funny way as one might expect after reading the play. In the center is The Funeral Parlor with Susan in front of a casket crying. Notice how Marcus isn't pictured with her, being humorous in an attempt to make her feel better. Then there is Medea wearing an Ancient Greek mask, looking tragic. That's the way Euripides interpreted her thousands of years ago."

Melia nodded gravely. She was impressed by Anna's answer but she looked as though she wished with all her heart that it was incorrect. "That's right. I've attempted to make our plays look cheerless for a reason." She cleared her throat and looked like she was blinking away tears before she continued.

"Believe it or not, there was a time Gotham truly was a wonderful place to live. It was when Thomas Wayne was still alive. I don't know how to explain it, but after Thomas and his wife's murder, things started taking a turn for the worse.

"He truly loved this city, Thomas. He was never selfish; he always gave back to the people without wanting anything in return. I think all of us thought his son Bruce would follow in his father's footsteps but…"

I narrowed my eyes at the name. Now Bruce Wayne _was _someone I'd heard of multiple times. A guy version of Paris Hilton: An arrogant, no talent socialite. It was a disgrace to the name of Wayne for this man to be so unlike his father.

My ranting thoughts ceased when Melia continues. "Fortunately for Gotham, Batman has come in our time of need."

Again, this was another name I was familiar with. Mostly I heard about him from Melia herself. She would gush about how wonderful he was whenever we'd talk on the phone.

Personally, I thought he sounded kind of strange. All that I had gathered was he wore black and dressed like a bat…It was like Gotham had its own personal superhero to protect it.

"There are those who don't trust him, but I think it's because they are still living in fear. This is an unexpected change, but this one man is there looking out for us. He wants Gotham to be a better place and I've decided to follow his example."

Looking around the table, I saw I wasn't the only one who looked confused. We gazed at each other before turning back to Melia.

"My plan is to give Gotham a laugh it hasn't had for a very long time. We advertise our shows as melancholy. But we secretly let word out that we are performing comedies. I hope that soon everyone in Gotham will hear about the shows from somebody and so they'll come and have a good time. But if there is anyone who believes this is too risky, you will not be forced into this production. All that I ask is that you not mention the plan to anyone."

This was my moment. I could stand up, leave and never be heard from again if I wanted to…

No. I wasn't going to desert Melia like this. She counted on us and I wasn't about to let her down.

All of us were silent, transfixed by Melia's bravery. We were taking a chance by going behind the backs of Gotham's most wanted and doing this. But it was so apparent Melia loved this city. She wanted to help in any way she could. And I admired her for that.

We all got ready to leave after we finished dinner and drank some more wine. Everyone came up to me, welcoming me to the city and told me they would see me tomorrow. They were being kind and courteous again, much to my relief. Corrine even approached me and gave me a quick hug.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she whispered, looking slightly guilty. "It's just that…he murdered my sister when he robbed a bank. I was told she was being helped by the teller when he and his men came in. He shot her…just because she was in his way…" Corrine was trying to fight back her emotions, so I let her go with my condolences and a promise that I would see her when we would have our read through tomorrow.

I was outside and in search of a cab when Richie Silberblatt staggered up to me.

"Do you not have a car, Julia?" He asked, looking like he could lose his footing any second now. It was then I could smell the wine coming in hot breaths near my face.

"It's in the shop at the moment," I answered standoffishly. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I didn't feel like talking to him when it was so obvious he had too much to drink.

But he didn't give up so easily. "My brother took mine out of town. He won't be back until next week so I'm going to have to get cabs to take me wherever I wanna go. There aren't too many out tonight, let's share one."

Before I could protest, he shot his arm out wildly at the only cab driving down the street. When it pulled up to us, he held the door open for me. I hesitated for a moment before sliding in, not really having a choice.

"Sooo…where am I takin' the uh…_luv-er-lee_ couple this eve-nin'?" The driver had a cold look in his dark eyes and sneered at us with a nasally voice that sent shivers down my spine.

"We aren't a couple," I muttered before looking back at Richie. He gestured for me to give my address before him. However, we would be dropping him off first since he lived closer to the restaurant than I did. As soon as we started to drive off, Richie turned to me with a huge grin.

"So, tonight was very interesting wasn't it? I mean, you wearing purple and all that."

Why did he feel the need to bring this up again? I noticed that the driver gazed up at me with interest. "Well like I said before, it was an accident and I wouldn't have done it if I knew about the Joker in the first place."

Richie threw his arms up, "Don't worry, Julia, I'm not mad at you. And the rest of the cast knows you didn't do it on purpose."

"Well then why won't you drop it?" I raised my voice considerably, jumping down his throat. There was a strange noise coming from the front seat. It was the cab driver with his fist in his mouth, trying to stifle high-pitched giggles. I did my best to ignore both of them by looking out the window. The tall buildings and condos descended in size, signaling the exit from the rich section of Gotham.

Richie Silberblatt couldn't seem to take a hint. "Do you want to know something funny about the Joker?"

I regarded him skeptically, wondering what could possibly be hilarious about a man who kills people for fun.

"He wears makeup!" He roared with laughter, slapping his knee with such energetic force that I wouldn't have been surprised if it started to bruise.

"You mean like stage makeup?" I asked, not even cracking a smile.

"Well, he smothers his face with this cheap, pasty white cream. And then he puts on red lipstick that's all over his mouth. He also has black circles around his eyes. The freak probably puts on manscara or guyliner for Christ's sake!" Tears were now beginning to stream down Richie's face, but I still couldn't find anything humorous about this. When I glanced up at the review mirror, I noticed the driver's inky eyes were narrowed and he was staring at me. It was almost as if he were waiting to see what kind of reaction I would give. I found myself thankful that I couldn't see his face. His eyes were frightening enough.

"Why the hell aren't you laughing, Julia? This is some funny shit!" He was beginning to turn red in the face and I secretly hoped he would pass out soon.

"Can we talk about something else?" I asked wearily, becoming increasingly tired of all this non-stop gossiping about the Joker.

Richie thought for a moment before looking at me strangely cross-eyed, "So, do you date anybody?"

I whirled my head at breakneck speed. "I- I what?!" I shrieked, at a complete loss for words.

He started to look angry, huffing like a rodeo bull. "Why am I even asking? You're bound to have a boyfriend."

Why did I answer him? Why the hell did I answer him? "I haven't dated anybody for a little while now," I hissed, hating that he was invading into my personal life.

"Really?!" He honestly looked flabbergasted by my answer. "I find that very hard to believe. You are quite attractive!"

I was spluttering incoherent noises, completely perturbed by the fact he was hitting on me. The driver even erupted into giggles; acting like a small child by the way he was hitting his hand on the steering wheel.

_He's drunk. Richie's drunk _I told myself over and over again. _He probably won't remember any of this by tomorrow. _I started stroking my finger again, trying to give myself comfort by this ordeal.

Finally, after trying to ignore Richie's slurred ramblings, we reached his one story house. He didn't seem to understand what was going on but he tried to grip the door handle. Rolling my eyes impatiently, I knew he wouldn't make it inside without some help, and the driver wasn't offering any kind of assistance.

Somehow, I managed to grip Richie's arm and throw it over my shoulder. In his drunken stupor, he weighed me down and it wasn't long before I collapsed on the sidewalk, scraping my legs painfully. For some reason, the driver found all of this extremely amusing. He was beginning to hyperventilate and shook uncontrollably with his laughing fits.

By the time I entered the house and dropped Richie onto his couch, he was out like a light. Cursing to myself, I closed the door quietly and approached the waiting cab. I really didn't want to be in this particular vehicle anymore, but there were no other taxies in sight.

When I plopped myself into the seat, I slammed the door, causing the glass to rattle violently. Oh thank God it didn't shatter!

"Sorry," I murmured. That was all I would need, having to pay for the window to be replaced because my petulant mood.

I had expected to be chastised for my violent behavior, but all that emitted from the cab driver's mouth was obnoxious sniggering. Surprise, surprise.

"Tsk, Tss-kuh. That lil temper of yours is just rearin' to go, ain't it?" I found the way he spoke kind of interesting. He added unneeded syllables and would pause between words, almost as if he was trying to find the exact thing to say. And I wondered if he was mocking my southern accent by dropping the g's. Or maybe that was just normal for him.

"Yeah, well I think you would be pretty upset too if somebody you just met tonight got drunk and philandered with you nonstop," I explained quietly. He seemed unsatisfied with my answer, so he pressed me further.

"Ooh, was it a…hmm. _Blind date?_" He threw the words at me venomously, as if they had left a bad taste in his mouth.

"No, we're in three plays that will be performed in a month and a half." I don't know why I felt the need to explain these things. I could have just said no and that would be it. "Here," I said, handing him a mini postcard with the same illustration as the advertisement from the stack Melia gave each of us. She wanted as many people as possible to see this play, so she encouraged us to hand them out to friends and neighbors. I figured mine would collect dust unless I had gotten to know the other residents in my apartment building, which wasn't a very good chance. "If you don't have to work one of those days, feel free to come and see it."

He looked at the little postcard with disgust before throwing me the same expression. With one hand, he crumpled it up into a tiny ball before tossing it back at me, hitting me square in the face. I shook my head and flicked it onto the floor. Let him clean it up.

I closed my tired eyes and leaned my head back. I just wanted this night to be over. When we pulled up to the apartments, I handed him exact change, ticked that I had to pay for Richie's ride home as well.

Despite his rudeness, I thanked him anyway. "Have a nice night," I said, having absolutely no idea why I sent him well wishes. He grunted, not entirely pleased with my gratitude.

Even when I was walking up the stairs, I could still hear the taxi's engine and I could feel those dark eyes boring into my back. Letting my instincts take the lead, I walked up to the fourth floor and went down the hall. I hid in the shadows until I heard the cab pulling away and taking off down the street.

I slowly made my way back down the stairs to my second floor apartment. I was probably being paranoid, but I just didn't have a good feeling about that guy. As soon as I locked myself in, I pressed my body against the wood of the door.

I was angry with myself more than anything. It was my own fault I came here to this city. If I hadn't begged him to go rent the movie that I desperately needed to see, he wouldn't have died. I would still be home in Virginia, living my life happily and carefree.

Could things in Gotham possibly get any worse?

**A/N: In case you guys are wondering what those three plays are like, I suggest you go on youtube.**

**The Funeral Parlor: Type in "Carol Burnett and Robin Williams -The Funeral". It is sooo funny. There are two parts to it. The first part follows the script closely. The second part is just Robin Williams showing off his improvisational skills.**

**The Actor's Nightmare: Just type in as is and watch whatever video you'd like, I guess. I really haven't seen one that has really good acting and good quality. But if you find one, let me know! :)**

**Medea: Type in "Medea by Christopher Durang" and it's the first video. I didn't really care for it, but you get the jist of it. **

**Seriously though, these are really funny plays. If they are ever playing where you live, I highly recommend seeing them.**

**Thank you for reading! Oh, and did you get the surprise I left for you guys...? ;D**


	5. The Devil Stealing an Angel

**Here we are, the chapter where the Joker finally makes his appearance! Yay!!! I'm so very excited and I truly hope this chapter was worth the wait. :D**

**Here's a quick note before you start: there are lots of italics used in this chapter. Most of them serve as flashbacks so again, they're boxed in. ****And finally, the disclaimer I couldn't wait to write...**

**Disclaimer:**

**The Joker belongs to DC Comics  
Julia Brighton belongs to me  
The plays The Actor's Nightmare, The Funeral Parlor, and Medea belong to Christopher Durang**

One more play to go.

I am sure that was what we were all thinking as we headed to the dressing rooms to change out of our mournful, black costumes. The Actor's Nightmare was done without disruptions and The Funeral Parlor went very smoothly. Looking at the clock, I saw that it was a little after three. Melia had decided to have all of our shows be in the afternoon so the citizens of Gotham wouldn't have to travel at night. The cast and I had fifteen minutes to get into our Medea outfits. Those who would not be in the third play talked with us.

It had been a long week. We performed on the first afternoon to uproarious laughter. There was then a surge of ticket sales and demands that we keep doing the show for a few more weeks.

But we had to take precautions. We didn't want to push our luck by performing for more than a week. It was then decided we would tape Sunday afternoon's performance and sell DVD's of it to anyone who wanted one. A close friend of Melia's worked for the local newspaper and wrote a review. The published piece was so depressing, stating how every single audience member left in tears after the heart wrenching tales. When each of the final applauses ended, Melia would come out to thank our audience and remind them not to talk about the plays in public. Every spectator was required to return their programs so they wouldn't be left out for anyone to see, just in case someone researched Christopher Durang and discovered that he writes comedies.

This was probably the best kept secret in all of Gotham. And there we were, the Sunday matinee concluding soon.

As I took off my pearl jewelry, a flood of memories and conversations overtook my consciousness as I stared blankly into the mirror.

First I thought of Jackie. She had promised to come, to share this moment with her best friend. It was the day before she was supposed to arrive when she called me with her pathetic story.

* * *

"_What do you mean you can't make it?" She had to be tricking me. It was the only reasonable explanation for why she said she couldn't visit._

"_I'm sorry, Jules. My director said that I couldn't take any time off from our play. He's really austere and well…" _

"_And how long have you known this?" I cut her off angrily. When I heard a broken sigh; I could tell she was trying not to break down in sobs._

"_For a couple of weeks." Jackie mumbled. I exhaled an irritated breath and threw myself onto the couch._

"_And you didn't bother to tell me about this before?" Now it all made sense. Whenever I'd mention her coming to see the play, Jackie would hastily change the subject._

"_I wanted my director to see that I was responsible during rehearsals. I thought if he saw me working really hard, then he would give me some time off so I could come and see you. Julia trust me, I begged him. But he's so strict; he wouldn't hear me out…" None of us said anything for awhile. Jackie had finally started to cry and I could feel tears bubbling in my own chest._

"_My director's calling," I lied, not really sure what to do. "I should answer, it's probably important."_

"_Please Julia, I'm sorry. I wish I could be-" I hung up the phone before Jackie finished what she was saying. It was then that the tears came. I buried my face into one of the pillows and bawled into the soft fabric._

* * *

Looking back, I knew I had acted childish. And I regretted it. But I couldn't bring myself to call Jackie and apologize. Whenever she would try to call me, I erased the messages without listening to them.

I supposed the reason why I was so angry was because her visit was probably the only thing I looked forward to while living in that God-forsaken city.

Even though my best friend couldn't come, Justin and Kat arrived Thursday morning along with Oliver and Kimmy. I had not expected this, but Justin called on Tuesday to tell me they were going up to Massachusetts for a family reunion on Kat's mom's side. He asked if they could stop in Gotham for one day so they could see me. I was overjoyed, my family would be coming.

_

* * *

_

It was a wonderful sight having my niece and nephew running to me screaming, "Julie!" And of course, being the favorite aunt, I made sure to spoil them with presents. Kimmy's eyes lit up in ecstasy when she unwrapped a new Barbie doll to add to her collection and Oliver's cherub face crinkled into a smile when he opened the box containing army figures.

_In the late morning, we all went to the Gotham City Zoo. It was such great fun, having the two children pull me along excitedly to watch the prairie dogs pop out of their holes and stand on their hind legs, little noses twitching for hint of food we might have for them. Oliver had a fun time imitating the monkeys, jumping up and down and making similar, screeching noises. Kimmy, however, exclaimed they were being too loud for her delicate ears and stomped off. I couldn't help but chuckle, sometimes I wondered if she would become an actress like me. She had enough drama to pull it off. When we arrived at the reptile house, Kimmy stated she was brave enough to touch the snakes that a handler had wrapped around his arm. Oliver, the child who was obsessed with GI Joes, hid behind my legs, not wanting any part of it._

_Since Oliver and Kimmy were only five and four years old, I didn't think the plays would be appropriate for them to see. So I had arranged for them to go to Kevin's house since he had both a son and daughter around their age._

_Justin and Kat were delighted by the plays. On the trip back to my apartment, they couldn't stop laughing and would repeat their favorite lines. They hinted that they'd love a copy of the DVD when it went on sale. As I unlocked my apartment door, I suddenly detected an ever-so faint smell of gasoline. Justin and Kat said they noticed it too, but after Justin sniffed around in the four rooms without locating the source, it was quickly forgotten, by everyone but me._

_About a week after eating at Chez Isabelle, I had smelled gasoline and notified the landlord, afraid that it could pose a hazard. By the time we walked back to my residence, the scent had gone. The landlord informed me that nothing was wrong and everything was normal. His logical explanation was that the building was near a gas station. But over the period of time, I would still smell gasoline on such random occasions, mostly when I returned from rehearsal. And I found it odd that the fetor seemed to be coming from either of my two closets and sometimes under my bed. But then it would disappear when I occupied myself with something else, usually after I took a shower._

"_Julia. Julia," Kat repeated. Remembering about the gasoline had made me oblivious to my company. "We're making dinner tonight." Despite my protests, they insisted that I must be exhausted after the performance, and besides, it would be the perfect opportunity to spend some quality time with my niece and nephew. The rug in my bedroom would make a comfortable play mat. When we got to my room, the stench of gasoline was even stronger, but I chose to ignore it._

_I tried to divide my attention equally between Oliver and Kimmy. Oliver had his GI Joes arranged in lines and we began an intense, epic battle of his own creation. After about ten minutes, I told my nephew to carry on and scooted over to Kimmy and her Barbie dolls. Maybe it was because I was a little girl once, but I had an easier time participating in Kimmy's imaginary play than Oliver's._

"_Lilly, you have to help me find the perfect outfit to go to the movies in!" Kimmy made her new doll say, looking down at the many dresses set on the floor._

_I had my doll walk over and stare at the dresses before I dubbed, "Go with the blue, Barbie, it will bring out the color of your eyes!" After we dressed our dolls in lavish outfits, we drove them in a mini convertible to my bed where the make believe movie theatre was. Soon, Oliver decided to join in with an army man._

_"Ollie, stop it!" Kimmy yelled, attempting to slap away his hands that were trying to fit his soldier into the car with her dolls. "It's not your turn yet. Julie hasn't finished playing with me!"_

_"But I wanna play too!" Oliver's sweet face turned into a pout. "Why can't we share, Kimmy?"_

_"Because I said so and you have to do whatever I say!" Oh God, not another fight. Before I could fuss at her rude behavior, Oliver snatched her Barbie and threw it against my closet door._

"_Hey you two, cool it." I said firmly, causing both of them to look slightly intimidated. "Oliver, go to that corner right now." I pointed to the edge of the wall that was nearest to the closet. "Kimmy, you get yourself to that corner." They both stomped off to their designated timeout areas, Kimmy's being diagonally across from Oliver's._

_To kill some time, I spent five minutes checking my email on my laptop before asking them to come over. They walked slowly with their arms crossed, not looking at each other. I bent down to their eye level and calmly explained to them why they were put in timeout. After we gave each other a group hug, I had Oliver get Kimmy's doll and apologize to her. Kimmy smiled and invited her older brother to play without being told to._

_After a few more minutes of playing, Kimmy asked, "Julie, can we watch cartoons?"_

_"Let me see how dinner's coming along," I uncrossed my legs and headed to the door. "If it's going to be ready soon then you can watch after we eat."_

_I walked down the hall to the living room where I heard the TV blaring, Justin and Kat being completely engrossed in it._

_"Hey guys, how's din-" I froze when I saw what they were watching. It was the news covering a story on the Joker. The newscaster, Mike Engel, looked seriously into the camera. "Be forewarned the following segment contains some graphic images that may not be suitable for children." _

_The image was cut to a colored, choppy surveillance video. I recognized the inside of the building immediately as my bank. There were employees lined up against the wall and my heart sank when I realized my banker, Tiffany McArthur, was one of them. The Joker, in his huge overcoat, walked up and down the line, saying things that couldn't be heard._

_When he noticed the camera, he walked up to it, still saying silent words. I tried to read his lips, desperately wishing I could hear what he was saying. There had to be a reason for that gleeful grin on his face to match the painted smile. Suddenly, he burst into what looked like hearty laughter before turning his head, watching a clown-masked man shoot the bankers execution style, Tiffany being the first to go._

_Before I could produce any kind of reaction, I heard a shrill scream next to me. I hadn't noticed Kimmy had walked in until now. Her wail brought her parents out of their shocked trance, looking around as if they had awoken from a nightmare._

_"Justin, change the channel now!" I ordered, scooping up Kimmy and taking her back to the bedroom. "I'll talk to her."_

_When I walked with Kimmy in my arms down the hall, Oliver came rushing out of my room, looking puzzled. "Oliver, go watch cartoons for awhile, alright?" He nodded and went into the living room, glancing back at his hysterical sister._

_I shut my door and carefully stepped around soldiers and dolls until I sat on my bed, Kimmy sobbing into my shirt._

_"It's okay, sweetheart, don't worry," I whispered, stroking her golden hair._

"_Wh- who was that scary clown on the TV, Julie?" Kimmy looked up at me, her eyes wide with fearfulness._

_I smiled reassuringly, "It's only a movie. They were all just actors; it's nothing to worry about." I hated lying to her, but she was too young to understand there was a mad murderer in Gotham._

_"You mean like a scary movie?" I nodded, thankful that she bought the story._

_"Exactly. It's all fake. There's no reason to be frightened." I held her close to me and whispered comforting words until she had calmed down. Soon, Kimmy joined Oliver on the couch and they watched cartoons together until it was time to eat._

_After we tucked in Oliver and Kimmy on the pull out couch, Justin asked if he could talk to me privately in my room. When we walked in, the smell of gasoline was still present. As I shut the door, he looked nervous, as if he wasn't sure what to say._

_"Copperhead, I- I'm not sure how to tell you this but-"_

_I held up my hand to stop him. "I know what you're going to say." He looked confused, but allowed me to continue. "I understand that you and Kat are worried about the Joker, but you needn't be. As soon as this play is over, I'm going to call a moving company and return home." _

_Justin blinked in surprise. "That actually wasn't what I was going to talk to you about but I'm glad you made that decision. I don't think it's safe for you to live in this city. I mean, I knew it was bad, but I didn't realize that-"_

_I nodded my head. After a month and a half of watching the news every night, I became more disquieted about the prospect of living there. Before Justin could proceed, I asked, "What were you going to tell me?" _

_He looked down and took a deep breath before answering. "Your dad called the other day."_

_"What?!" I couldn't believe my ears. No, it couldn't be true. I was the one who was supposed to contact him. When I told Justin this, he nodded understandingly._

_"I know, Jules, but he told me he got tired of waiting. These were his exact words, 'For all she knows, I could be dead next week. Then she would regret it!'"_

_I rolled my eyes, sitting on the edge of my bed. He had said a similar thing when I decided to break off communication with him. Of course, this was him trying to make me feel guilty. It must have frustrated him to realize that his guilt trips rarely worked on me._

_"He wouldn't leave me alone until I promised to give you his number." Justin held out a piece of paper. I placed my head in my hands and supported my elbows on my knees. I wasn't sure of what to do. He obviously wanted to talk to me since he broke the promise of contacting me. Of course, I said I would call him when I was twenty-two, a promise I too broke._

_Justin, my biological half-brother but emotional one hundred percent brother, joined me on the bed and held me to him. "You don't have to decide tonight. Just think about it. You're not making a promise to be in his life again by this one phone call. You can talk to him and see if it's worth trying for a relationship again. And if it isn't, then you'll know and you won't have to worry about it."_

_A wave of relief flowed through me. Sitting up, I wrapped my arms around my big brother. "Thanks, Black Mamba. You're always there for me."_

_I took the piece of paper that contained the future with my father and placed it in the drawer on my bedside table. Maybe I would try calling him when I moved back to Virginia…_

* * *

"Five minutes!" Melia warned, poking her head in the dressing room before leaving.

"Thank you five!" We all shouted back, using the common theatre courtesy we were taught at some point in each of our acting careers.

After I finished applying sparkly, golden eye shadow, I studied myself in the mirror. My costume was beautiful. It was white with long, flowing sleeves that went a little bit past my waist. I thought I looked similar to Galadriel, apart from not having shimmering, blonde hair, a tall height, and intimidating beauty. However, to make the costume more comic, I had to wear angel wings. They made me feel uncomfortable, they cut into my back so much. And I thought I looked too perfect, which bothered me. Thankfully, Melia allowed me to take them off after my exit.

When I walked out of the dressing room, I almost bumped into Richie Silberblatt, who was sporting his messenger costume. Without saying a word, we both walked in opposite directions. As I made my way toward the stage, I again could not help but become submersed in the memories of the past few weeks. Ever since that evening when I deposited a drunken Richie on his couch, he somehow came to believe that we were "an item".

Over the course of rehearsing our skits, Richie never missed an opportunity to drape his arm around my shoulder, with intimate little squeezes becoming more and more frequent. Perhaps I would have misinterpreted these demonstrations as mere friendliness, but his suggestive comments implied so much more. "_When are you going to introduce me to your family?" "How about you and me get away for the weekend?" "Why don't you stop by my place after rehearsal so we can get wasted?"_. But the comment that broke this camel's back- "_When are we going to consummate our relationship?"_. At that point I just lost it and during my uncontrolled tirade, I resorted to name-calling- "_…overbearing…obnoxious…sleazy"_. But when I said, "_Leave me the hell alone!"_, his wounded look made me realize that I had been too harsh.

However, the next day, Anna and Kathleen came up to me, looking uneasy. When I gave them curious looks, Anna piped up first, pushing up her glasses.

_

* * *

_

"Julia, are you and Richie seeing each other?"

_I threw them both a double take and sputtered rapidly._ _"N-no! Where on earth did you hear that?" _

_They glanced at each other before Kathleen spoke._ _"Richie's been telling everyone that you went to his house after the cast dinner. He said…"_ _She shifted uncomfortably before continuing._ _"He said that you couldn't keep your hands off of him."_

_Damn him. Damn that man to hell._ "_I helped him into his house because he was completely drunk off wine and the cab driver was a jerk and didn't offer to help me get him inside." I said this as slowly and calmly as I could. Kathleen and Anna offered to talk to the rest of the cast to quell the rumors and thought they'd be able to convince Kevin and Trey to talk to Richie._

_By the end of that especially long rehearsal, I walked to my beautifully restored car. When I was about to unlock the door, Richie came up to me._ "_I need to talk to you,"_ _he muttered as his blue eyes flashed angrily. I nodded but set my jaw firmly. Richie took a calming breath and told me what Trey and Kevin said to him. Our discussion quickly turned into a huge blowout, the two of us shouting in each other's faces._

"_Dammit, Julia! Why won't you just give me a chance? What's wrong with just one date with me?"_

_I snorted and placed my hands on my hips._ _"Is it that hard for you to understand? If you hadn't gotten drunk and said all of that stuff to me, maybe I would have given you a chance."_

* * *

The latter was a lie. I didn't move to Gotham to look for a relationship. Gotham appealed to me. It seemed to be the perfect place to escape the reminders of all that I had lost.

In the end, we agreed to not speak to each other unless it was absolutely necessary.

As I was being hooked up to cables that would lower me down to the stage, I reviewed my lines in my head and hoped nothing would go wrong.

When Collette and I exchanged our dialogue, I could hear the audience roaring with thunderous laughter. Even though I was shy, whenever I went onstage, I became an entirely different person. Quiet became loud, reserved turned into sarcasm. I loved comedic roles; making people laugh was so much more rewarding than making them cry. Maybe that limited me as an actress, but for me, comedy was the way to go. It helped me forget my pain even if just for a moment. I owned the parts I played, until the curtains would close. Then I became my old self once more.

As the cables lifted me back up to the ceiling and Medea's last monologue began, I could not help but breathe a sigh of relief. We had achieved the impossible. I'm not ashamed to admit that I had my doubts. I thought something, anything could go horribly wrong.

But it didn't. We succeeded in restoring laughter to Gotham, even if it was just for a week. I felt a sense of accomplishment. Even though some of my experiences in Gotham had been terrible, I knew I did my part in aiding this desperate city. But more than anything, I realized that I was ready to go back and face all that I had left behind in Virginia.

After I removed my bothersome angel wings, we all came out to take our bows, beaming at the cheering, appreciative audience. Melia walked across the stage to get ready to say her final thanks. She held up her hands, trying to silence the crowd gracefully. Slowly, the clapping began to evaporate until there was only one left. We couldn't see the lone applauder, but the muffled slapping of palms got louder and along with it came laughter. Not light-hearted and jovial, but menacing.

It all happened so fast. Men wearing clown masks came running in from all directions lugging huge machine guns, keeping the audience at bay. Screams pierced through the auditorium, people held onto each other for dear life. The rest of the cast and I stood frozen on the stage, not grasping the level of danger we faced.

"Bravo! Brr-ah-vo! Encore!" The man whose voice belonged to that insane laughter emerged, walking casually down the aisle, still clapping his purple-clad hands.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears when I took in his appearance. The surveillance videos that played on the nightly news did not begin to capture his threatening demeanor.

His makeup was the same, but perhaps not as splotchy. And his green-tinted hair looked less stringy. It's as if he wanted to look his best for the show. His costume was the only part of his attire that was exactly the same. Now I could see why everyone in Gotham feared the colors purple and green. Green is the color of the earth and nature. Purple is the color of tranquility. They are meant to be peaceful, soothing colors yet on him, they look so foreboding.

"That was a rivetin' performance, ladies 'n gents!" He skipped up the stairs and slowly crossed to center stage. Even though his posture was slouched forward, it amazed me how he had such presence. All eyes were on him, not even blinking. They were mesmerized by his every word. "You people deserve a couple of Tony's for your drrr-amatic portrayals."

He crossed over to Melia who had gone very stiff, yet she stood her ground even with the Joker inches away from her.

"Now, Ms. Dur-eck-tor, tell me, did ya really think I was hmm…that stupi-duh? Did ya think that I was so un-cult-ured that I wouldn't be able to figure out your lil plan?"

Before Melia could answer, the sound of a gunshot and shouts of surprise filled the air. The Joker closed his eyes in feigned impatience before turning to the audience, who immediately fell silent once more. "Ah yes, that's what happens when the lil boys 'n girls try and call for help, as lil Susie was so kind to demon-strate for the class." He gestured to a middle-aged woman slumped in her seat in the third row, her face bloody and unmoving. "Now don't get me wrong, those coppers can be a lotta fun, but teachie needs to edge-uh-muh-cate these misbehavin' students with-out any ahh...interruptions."

He turned back to Melia and began circling her, like a lion that cornered its prey. "Believe me when I say this Ms. Dur-eck-tor…now are ya listen' cause it's real important for you to understand." He licked his lips feverishly, as if he was a young boy about to devour a snow cone after hours of playing in July. "…Believe me when I say that I admire your cunning. It's not ever-eee-one who's got the guts to pull off somethin' like that. But ya did try to trick me so for that you're gonna have to be uh hmm…_punished_."

Melia's face started to pale and she was visibly shaking.

"Now, now Ms. Dur-eck-tor, there's no need to shake like a leaf. I'm not gonna do anythin' to _you_! No, no, no- - it's one of your ack-tors that will be comin' with lil. Ole. Me…"

"No!" Something seemed to have clicked in Melia's head, for she finally spoke. "Please, do whatever you want with me, but don't hurt any of them. I am the only one who is responsible, it was all my idea!"

"Yeah, well I s'pose ya shoulda thought of that in the first place then." Melia was about to reason with him when he cut her off by pulling a knife from his pocket, releasing the blade from its sheath, and brandishing it before her. "I suggest ya better keep your trap _shut_, Ms. Dur-eck-tor. I've gotta set an example for the next _dolt_ who decides to pull a fast one on me. And I have the perfect way of choosin' my captive."

One of the clown-masked men came to the edge of the stage and handed what seemed to be sheets of paper to the Joker. He thumbed through them excitedly, licking his lips at a faster pace.

"The ack-tor with the best smile will win this lil game. The lucky winner will get an all expense paid trip to one of my secret hideouts and will spend their time endurin' unspeakable torment that I myself will proviiide, free of charge." When he flashed us a Cheshire cat grin, it was then, I think, that the cast and I realized in his gloved hands were our headshots. We were now huddled close together, wondering which of us would be so unfortunate to be selected.

"Lemme see…well for my own personal taste, I think I would prefer to pro-cure a lady, so you three gents are outta the game." He tossed aside Kevin, Trey, and Richie's pictures, much to their apparent assuagement. However, they moved closer to us girls, trying their best to provide comfort and protection.

"Huh, this gal's a lil too buck-toothed for my taste, so I'm gonna hafta say uh…_no_," He held up Collette's headshot. When I glanced at her, she looked thankful to not have been chosen but still hurt by the Joker's insult all the same.

"Aaa-nnn-duh…Ms. Ell-kins and Four Eyes aren't smilin' with their teeth. It's not as attractive to be smilin' with just your lips, girls. Better luck next time."

It was down to me and Corrine. We both exchanged frightened glances. I closed my eyes and prayed silently.

_Please God, I want to go home. If you let me go home, I'll forgive the drunk driver...and myself. I promise I'll be happy again. Please God. Please don't let him take me._

"Hmm…hmm…hmm…dee-siz-uns, dee-siz-uns. The two remainin' players both have bee-aaa-uuu-teeful smiles! Miss Brr-iii-ton's got such genuine pearly whites but Miss Chapp-ell-ear looks like she could be a model with that suh-duct-ive grin of hers! Which one, which one-uh?" Several tense seconds passed with him contemplating his decision by tapping the edge of his blade against his caked-on chin.

My heart pounded against my ribcage and Corrine looked as if she could faint any second.

_Let something go wrong. Let the police come. Or Batman. Please, just don't let anything happen to us. _

The Joker crumpled up one of the pictures and tossed it behind him. With a dramatic sweep of his arm, he held out the last headshot for us to see. "Cunn-grat-uuu-lations, Miss Brighton, _you_ are the winner! Coommmeee on dooownnn!"

No! This couldn't be happening! This was just a nightmare. A nightmare that I was about to wake up from. A very bad, surreal dream that would be over soon.

But it wasn't. I knew better than to believe in such nonsense. This _was_ real. My uncontrollable quivering, the Joker grinning wildly at me, Melia and the cast staring at me in alarm and sympathy, all flashed again and again before my eyes, like a horror movie on continuous loop.

Before I could think to move a single muscle, my theatre troupe family surrounded me, creating a barrier between me and this madman.

In a flash, the Joker replaced his knife with a pistol, pointing the weapon calmly. "Ah dup dup dup! There will be no protectin' the ab-duc-tee, ladies 'n gents. I'm takin' the girl and don't think I won't ba-low your fuckin' heads off cause I will if I hafta. Sooo…we can do this the easy way or the uh haaarrrd way."

I didn't have a choice. He was going to take me regardless of who tried to defend me. I couldn't let the others get hurt. The feeling in my legs returned, so I began to squeeze between Collette and Kathleen.

"Julia, no!" Collette breathed, looking at me in disbelief.

Kevin leaned towards me and hissed, "You can't just let him win, Julia!"

I felt a soft hand on my shoulder and turned to see Trey shake his head frantically, unable to speak. I tried to smile reassuringly, but it was more than likely a grimace. Gently, I pried his hand off and placed it at his side.

When I tried to make my way forward again, Corrine threw her arms around me. "I should be the one," she murmured, her interesting eyes becoming wet for the first time. "He killed my sister; it makes more sense for him to take me." I didn't answer. What was there to say?

Soon everyone had given me a quick hug, knowing they didn't have much time. They did their best to whisper comforting words, making promises that I would soon be found, promises I didn't think could be fulfilled. There were others who said they would pray for me. Richie was the only one who didn't say or do anything; he only seemed to be part of the scenery. And I could not have cared less.

Melia rushed over and pulled me into a tight, motherly embrace. "I am so sorry, Julia. Please forgive me, I didn't mean for this to happen." Her face was sticky with new tears flowing over dried ones.

"I know you didn't." That was the first thing I had said since the Joker announced I would be his new captive and already, my voice cracked. But I wasn't crying, not yet anyway.

"Come on, come on, come on, we don't have all day hee-re-uh." His voice went even higher with each repetition, and then lowered in pitch until it became gravelly. It was so strange, yet it seemed to flow perfectly.

If he was so impatient, why didn't he just wrench me away himself? The answer came to me as I walked toward him. He wanted everyone to see me stroll willingly toward my destruction.

I stopped about three feet from him, not able to bring myself to look into his eyes. With one finger, he beckoned me closer, his expression unreadable. I felt my throat tightening when I resumed my death walk to my abductor.

When I was inches from him, he shot out his gloved hand and pulled me until I crashed into his chest. I breathed in the faint, familiar smell of gasoline when I glanced up at him. I hadn't noticed something was odd about his face until now. He had two horrendous, raised scars that curved his mouth into a permanent smile. For the longest time, I had thought it was his makeup badly smudged.

"Aww…do my scars _scare_ you Miss Brr-iii-ton?" He unsheathed his knife again and pressed it into the corner of my mouth. I was trembling worse than ever and I tried to pray to God to come to my aid. But the knife kept clouding my scrambled thoughts. "I really should tell ya about it, it's a fasss-in-atin' story. But not today, m'dear, we have more uh _prr_-essing matters to attend to…" I watched him cautiously as he brought the knife near my eye. I breathed a shaky sigh of relief but still shivered when he only used the blade to tuck one of my side bangs behind my ear before pocketing it.

But he wasn't finished yet. I jumped in surprise as he brought his face closer to mine. He used his gloved hand to turn my head slightly, his painted lips rubbing against my ear. "But I will tell ya why I chose _you_ out of all the rest. And it didn't have to do with your gore-gee-us smile, although that did help a laaahhh-tuh." His hot breath tickled my sensitive skin and he patted my cheek in a derisive manner.

Without warning, the Joker turned me ruthlessly and pressed my body against his. We were standing side by side, his long arm coiling tightly around my shoulders to keep me in place. "Ya know, Ms. Dur-eck-tor, I wouldn't have come to your lil performance if it wasn't for Miss Brighton here." In spite of my fear, I looked up at him, shocked. He gave my shoulders a quick squeeze and started to rummage in his pocket before turning back to a very confused Melia.

"Ya see…Miss Brighton gave me a _special invitation!_" He pulled out what seemed to be a crumpled postcard. As I stared at it, I slowly came to realize it was one of the mini advertisements Melia gave us to hand out to citizens. The first one I had given was to a cab driver. Not wanting to believe what I had done, I looked into his eyes. They were as dark as the makeup surrounding them, not unlike the way they stared at me through the rearview mirror of the cab.

The Joker pulled his lips back, revealing yellow teeth in a morbid grin. "I see the light bulb has finally ca-licked." He threw his head back and howled with laughter at the look of horror I had given him. I turned my head toward my theatre troupe family. They gazed back at me with looks of bewilderment.

"I'm sorry. It was an accident." My words were barely above a whisper, but they knew what I was saying. Nearly all of them nodded their heads, showing their understanding. Richie looked from me to the Joker and back. It was like he was trying to connect the dots. But there was no way he could do so. He had been inebriated when we were in the taxi. Besides, he was out cold on his couch when I handed the Joker my one way ticket to hell.

The Joker turned back to the audience and started to pull me by the wrist towards the edge of the stage when out of nowhere, a sturdy body came flying, ripping the two of us apart. I tripped over my dress and crashed to the floor. I had expected the Joker's zanies to start firing their guns, but they just watched the fight through their eyeholes.

"You…will…not…take…Julia!" shouted Richie between punches to the Joker who was merely laughing at the whole situation. I just lay there, stunned at what I was witnessing. I could not comprehend this; Richie and I had been giving each other the cold shoulder for nearly three weeks. And yet, there he was trying to save me from the unknown horrors that awaited me.

Deciding that he was getting bored with all the hitting, the Joker threw Richie away from him. I'm not sure how this happened, but suddenly a blade was protruding from the Joker's right shoe and he bent it back. Before I could shout a warning, the bladed shoe connected with Richie's stomach, puncturing the skin easily.

Everything now moved in slow motion. Richie collapsed, screaming and clutching his stomach beside which an expanding pool of blood formed.

"Ya know, I thought I had forgotten to do somethin'…" The Joker stood over Richie, who writhed on the floor in pain. "And then_ stud muffin_ here was kind enough to remind me." He bent down and lowered his voice so the rest of us could not hear. He made over-the-top hand gestures and kept pointing to his face. Despite his agony, Richie listened, his blue topaz eyes growing wider every second. "So I guess this means ya hafta watch what ya say from now on." He stood once more and placed his knifed toe over Richie's throat. "Not that you'll ever get that chance-suh."

I squeezed my eyes shut right before the sounds of tearing flesh and gargling gasps for air traveled to my ears. Rough hands grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to stand. With my back pressed against him, the Joker bowed, bending me with him. "Thank you for bein' an ahh-tentive audience, ladies 'n gents. It's been fun, but the time has come for the lady and I to make our grr-and exit!"

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. The Joker burst into maniacal laughter and took a flying leap over the orchestra pit, pulling me along effortlessly. He landed without so much as a wince, while pain shot up my legs when I hit the hard ground. With each of his long strides, I stumbled multiple times behind him. It felt as though he was going to rip my arm right out of its socket. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, and I knew what they would show: trepidation and pity. I looked straight ahead.

The Joker kicked open the double doors and glided into the lobby, where more clown-masked men were supervising security guards and other employees with deadly weapons.

Ignoring them, the Joker led me through a side entrance, and we found ourselves in the parking lot outside the theatre. I blinked my eyes, trying to get them accustomed to the late afternoon sun.

Pulling out his gun, the Joker turned to me and smiled slyly. I felt my heart skip multiple beats as he teased me, twirling the gun in his hand.

"Well, Miss Brr-iii-ton, this is where our first scene ends. When we resume after your beauty sleep, we will cuh-mence with scene two. _Aaaannddd cut_! " He swung the gun back and before I could try to dodge it, the handle hit me in the back of the head. Along with the pain and blackness that filled my world, I heard the insane laughter start up again. And then I was gone.

**A/N: Well, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. Since this was my first time interpreting the Joker, could you guys give me some feedback? Was it bad, good, too much, too little? I appreciate each of your opinions. **

**Also, I'm not really sure where I want to go with Chapter 6. Do you guys want to find out what's been haunting Julia all this time or would you like to see something else? If you have any suggestions, feel free to PM me so it can be a surprise. **

**Thank you for reading! Ta-Ta for now!**


	6. Unveiling the Pain

**Hey everyone! I am soo sorry for the long wait! Basically, school has been stressing me out (assignments were due one after the other) but whenever I was given the chance, I would sit down and write. So finally, I managed to finish chapter six!**

**Before you start, I would quickly like to thank some of my reviewers: Lil-Miss-Massacre and MacAttack5 were great enough to let me know that my Joker was a bit overdone and suggest that I tone it down, as it was a bit hard to read at times. So over winter break, I went back and edited him a bit. Thank you very much you two!**

**I would also like to thank Pirate College Graduate for letting me know that I would shift from past tense to present tense. I honestly had no idea I was doing that until I went back and read it. XD So, I fixed it!**

**And thanks to Evil-Clowns-Rule for your suggestions. I will be using them, but I won't say anymore cause I want it to be a surprise. :D**

**And just an overall thank you to all my readers! Your reviews have been so helpful and encouraging to me these past few months, I don't know where I'd be without you! And I do appreciate and encourage suggestions for previous chapters or upcoming ones; please feel free to tell me. I love each of your opinions and I truly take each suggestion into consideration. **

**And one more quick little note: Like I said, I went back and edited over break but it isn't necessary for you to go back and re-read. However, if you remember something I wrote in a previous chapter that might conflict with any new chapters, I may have changed it but you can ask me so you don't have to try and find it. **

**I apologize for this insanely long author's note. So without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Oh, and this is the chapter where it's revealed what's been haunting Julia...**

**Disclaimer:**

**Julia Brighton belongs to me :)**

_I threw myself onto the couch, fuming and muttering under my breath. That was possibly the __worst__ audition of my entire life! The monologue was perfect in every way, yet I messed up on the most important line of the piece and was completely thrown off. I placed one of the pillows over my face and screamed into it, wishing I could simply start this day over. _

_I lied there for about an hour, replaying every tiny detail in my mind. I was too engrossed in my thoughts to hear the quick opening and closing of the front door and a small laugh that came from the doorway. My security cushion was removed and I felt soft, warm lips pressing tenderly against my forehead. _

"_Are you sleeping, Julia?" he whispered, gently caressing my cheek._

"_I wish I could," I moaned bitterly, opening my eyes into narrow slits at the handsome, smiling face. _

_He lifted my upper body off the sofa for a moment so he could squeeze in. When he situated himself behind me, I was pulled against his chest and he wrapped his protective arms around me. "How did your audition go?" he murmured against my hair. _

"_Absolutely and pathetically horrible." I shot him a glare when he chuckled._

"_Oh come on, it couldn't have been that bad. You were amazing when you practiced in front of me."_

"_Yeah, well today I sucked. No, listen!" I turned my head to look at him when he snorted with giggles into my neck. "You know the line, 'That wasn't enough. You did not clap hard enough. Tinkerbell is dead'? I didn't say it dramatically enough. It was so blah, way too matter of fact. Like, oh Tinkerbell just died, who gives a crap? And then, the last and most important line of the whole goddamn piece, 'I mean nothing seems worth trying if Tinkerbell is just going to die'. You know what I did? I don't know what the hell I was thinking, but I said it right after 'And then we all started to cry'. It's like the last six sentences weren't important enough to say. I ended it, just like that! And obviously I couldn't say, 'Oh sorry, I messed up, can I start over?'. It was embarrassing beyond belief."_

_We didn't say anything for awhile. I closed my eyes when he began to rub my shoulders and felt like I could fall asleep until he started speaking. "Sweetie, you're always going to have your bad days. I think you should forget about it and just do better next time. Maybe you should practice the monologue a bit more."_

"_But I wanted this role so bad! It was like Essie was made for me! I remember when I saw the high school's production of it when I was in seventh grade that I wanted to be in You Can't Take it With You. Essie was my favorite character. But I won't be playing her because I was an idiot and had a terrible audition!"_

_I felt like I was going to explode and I desperately wanted to lie on my bed and go to sleep, just so I could forget about my day, even if just for a little while. I started to climb off him but he wrapped his arms tighter around my waist, not letting me go._

"_Derrick, stop it! I mean it, let go!" I tried to pry his hands off me but his reflexes were faster. Before I could stop him, he captured my arms and held them securely under his. _

"_Julia, you need to calm yourself down." He waited for me to quit struggling and spoke only when I surrendered my body against his. "Now listen to me, Julia. There are good days and bad days. Today was not your best, but you know what you can do? You can use this as a learning experience." _

"_But I wanted to be Essie!" At this point, I realized I was acting like a spoiled brat but I didn't care. Usually, when I didn't get the part I wanted, I would shrug my shoulders and go on with life. But for some reason, I was obsessed with this play. Ever since I saw it I wanted to be in it, to be Essie. The character who spun crazily about the living room, trying to- although not succeeding- become a dancer. The female character that made me laugh the most._

"_Maybe you weren't meant to play her at this time. Who knows? Maybe a few more years will go by and you can tryout again. Don't give up hope just yet."_

_I didn't say anything, so we sat there in silence. Derrick began twirling my hair in his fingers, but I didn't pay him a speck of attention. Maybe he was right. Maybe I could get the part in a few years if I ever tried out for it again. But it was all just so humiliating. I considered myself a better actress than what I displayed today. And there would be no second chance._

"_Do you want me to make you some dinner?"_

_I groaned. The thought of food at that moment made me sick to my stomach. _

"_I'm not hungry."_

_Derrick was never one to give up. "Not even for pork chops? I bought some yesterday."_

"_I'm not hungry."_

"_Oh come on, sweetie! Never in my entire life have I heard say you didn't have an appetite for pork chops. It's your favorite dinner."_

"_Are you deaf, Derrick?! I just said not once but twice that I wasn't hungry!" _

"_Alright Jules, there's no reason to bite my head off! I just asked a simple question; you don't need to snap at me like that!"_

_I took a deep breath and tried to speak as calmly as I could but still managed to grind my teeth in anger. "I'm sorry. Obviously I'm not in a good mood and I shouldn't have yelled at you. But I am very tired and I truly need a quiet and relaxing evening right now."_

"_Do you want me to do anything for you?" On a better day, I would have leaned back and kissed Derrick with gratitude. I would have told him all I needed was to be with him. _

_But I didn't do either of those. And because of my temper and lack of consideration, it became the night when I lost everything._

"_Will you go to Blockbuster and rent __How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days__?"_

"_What, are you leaving me or something?" Derrick joked, much to my annoyance._

"_No! I'm just in the mood for a romantic comedy tonight."_

"_Well can you pick something we've got, cause there's no way in hell I'm going back out in this weather!" The remnants of a hurricane had moved its way through the gulf coast and slammed into Virginia, thus causing stormy weather for two days. _

"_Derrick, you asked if you could do anything for me and I told you what I wanted. You know I don't ask for much, so could you do this one thing for me? I'm looking for something to lighten my mood, here," I demanded. _

_Derrick moaned into my shoulder. He probably thought this would be the only way to lift my spirits. Derrick was never selfish. Unlike me. _

"_Fine." He lifted himself off the couch and made his way into the living room to put on his raincoat and grab an umbrella. When he came back, I was seated on the edge of the sofa, winding my hair around my finger in a bored manner. He knelt down so we were eye level with each other and he cupped my face into his hands. "Now when I get back I want you to promise that you'll be nicer. Got it?"_

"_Got it," I softened. His blue-green eyes were filled with love and concern. I think I fell in love with his eyes before I even got to know him. They reminded me of the mountains that surrounded our valley, beautiful and protective. He gave me a passionate kiss before he left to brave the dreary elements. And I always regret that I didn't return the kiss. _

"_Bye, Lucky Penny," he mused as he ruffled my hair playfully before heading to the front door. When he glanced back at me, I responded by tossing my hair moodily. I heard a low sigh when he shook his head and departed our home._

_To occupy myself, I texted Jackie about my day. Being an actress like me, she was sympathetic towards my horrible audition and offered to work with me on improving the monologue. We continued to text randomly even though I knew I was over my allotted monthly minutes._

"_Derrick is takin 4ever!" I pressed rapidly into my cell._

"_Mayb he got stranded b/c of the rain…try callin him."_

"_He doesnt answer while drivin, just like me."_

"_He probably isnt drivin…who'd b crazy enough 2 drive in this weather?"_

_Just like Jackie to make me feel guilty, so I didn't answer her back. I tossed my little phone back and forth in my hands, debating if I should try contacting Derrick. I started to press the square buttons when suddenly in the distance, I heard the sound of squealing tires and several sickening crunches before finally, a loud crash shook the night. I ran to the window, but couldn't see much through the rain-streaked panes._

_Worry was starting to tug at my stomach when I redialed Derrick's number. I bit my nails with a little more intensity each time I heard the continuing rings._

"_Hey, this is Derrick. I'm either driving, or filming, or spending time with Julia, or just plain busy so I can't talk now. But if you leave a message, I'll call you back when I'm not busy."_

_I took a shaky breath before speaking, "Hey baby, it's Julia. Umm…just wanted to make sure you were okay. Please drive home carefully, alright? I love you." I hung up quickly and stared out the window. I could hear neighbors beginning to pour out of their houses and run down the dimly lit street._

_Should I stay or go see? There probably wasn't anything to worry about. Derrick was always the careful driver while I was a bit more risky. It probably wouldn't take long. I'd just go check it out for a second and then get back home before Derrick returned. _

_I hurried out the front door without a thought to wearing a raincoat. _

"_Did you hear that crash, Julia?" asked my neighbor Paul, adjusting the umbrella he held over him and his wife so I could get under it as well._

"_Yeah, I did." I answered distractedly, looking all around me in hopes of seeing Derrick's red, vintage Cadillac pull into our driveway._

_Ashley gripped Paul's hand fearfully. "I hope no one got hurt. It sounded pretty bad."_

_Those were the last words spoken as the three of us made the three minute journey to the crash site. Paul and Ashley were smart to have put on jackets and rain boots before venturing out the door. Whenever we stepped in an unseen puddle, water would travel into my Birkenstocks and collect in my wool socks. My throat began to tighten when we climbed up a steep hill, a crowd of onlookers gathering at the top. I would just have a quick look, then go straight home._

_When we reached the top, there were people who were brave enough to peer over the edge and shine flashlights at the accident. We however, joined a group of newcomers that surrounded a hysterical woman, listening to her shout the story to those who could hear._

"_Then the guy started to swerve crazily, I swear to heaven almighty that the fool was drunk! He went into the other lane so the driver tried to get out of the way but he lost control and veered off the road and flipped all the way down the hill!"_

"_What happened to the other guy?" one man yelled over the gasps and cries everyone emitted._

"_The drunk driver? He acted like a damn fool and kept going! The bastard knew what he did but didn't pull over or nothing!"_

_The woman began to repeat the story. Many people stayed to listen even though it was evident they heard it countless times. Paul started to move towards the edge of the hill when Ashley caught his arm._

"_I don't want to see it, Paul. Can we just go home?"_

"_Maybe there's someway I can help. Let me just look and you stay here with Julia."_

"_I'll come with you. I need to see it…" There really wasn't anything to worry about. Derrick was probably home and wondering where I was. I added in a whisper more to myself than to my neighbors, "…just to be sure."_

_Paul and I went under the umbrella to the area where onlookers were still shining flashlights at the wreckage._

"_Has anybody gone down there?" Paul asked a heavyset man who was chewing a piece of gum with such violent force._

"_Are you kidding me? This hill is really steep. Nobody's crazy enough to go down it in this weather unless they don't mind tumbling all the way down."_

_I barely listened to the conversations ensuing all around me. I was desperately trying to decipher the color of the crumpled car._

_Please don't be red, please don't be red I kept saying to myself over and over again._

_I squeezed past people so I could try to move at a better angle to see the license plates. Paul hurried to keep up so to continue protecting me from the heavy rain that began to pick up. I let out a strangled gasp when I saw an upside down bumper sticker. I didn't have to make out the words to know what it said, "You may say I'm a dreamer, but I'm not the only one." It was the present I had gotten him after the first month of our relationship._

_I wasn't aware that I had started to run down the hill until Paul grabbed my arm in an attempt to hold me back. "No Julia, stay here! You could get yourself killed, there's nothing you can do to help him!"_

_Using all the energy I could muster, I somehow managed to wrestle out of his grip and continued my descent down the hillside. I had no regard for my own safety. I wasn't thinking rationally. All I cared about was getting to the car, reaching my love._

_I quickly lost my footing on the slick slope and rolled painfully down; mud and blades of grass entering my mouth. I spat out the muck as I crawled the rest of the way to crushed vehicle, not being able to stand on the foot I had twisted. _

_When I reached the cracked window, I could just barely make out the outline of a body slumped in the driver's seat._

"_Derrick!" I screamed, grabbing the handle to try and open the door. But it was to no avail, the door was too bent. "No - no - no - NO!" I cried after each of my futile attempts._

_I turned my body and was about to use my good leg to kick the glass when sense came to me. What if some of the glass landed on Derrick? It could seriously harm him. But something needed to be done. Why wasn't anyone helping?_

_With a speed I never thought I could possess, I used my hands and knees to push my way towards the other side. Again, I bent my foot back but hesitated. I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to risk hurting Derrick but I needed to do something! _

_As carefully as I could, I broke the passenger side window. "Oh God, no Derrick! Please, no!" Derrick was pinned by the steering wheel and from what I could tell, his face was bruised and bloody. I had turned my head away from the horrifying sight when my eye caught something that caused my heart to plummet. With a shaking hand, I picked up a small box that had landed under the emergency brake. Even in the darkness, I could still tell it was the DVD I had sent Derrick out to rent in this God awful weather. _

_I pressed my forehead against the case and sobbed into it. "Please. Please, someone let me die. I don't deserve to live any longer. Please just let me die! PLEASE!" _

_Even over the heavy drops falling all around me and my consistent pleas, I could just barely make out a soft sound. It was so quiet, yet I could hear it so clearly. Hardly daring to believe it, I looked back at my love. His head moved an infinitesimal amount and his lips barely moved when another moan escaped him._

"_Derrick?" My voice was weak, but I could hear a small bit of hope ring through the chaos. As if my saying his name was a trigger, Derrick's head moved a bit more and I saw him try to open his eyes. _

_Before I could try speaking again, I lifted my head to the distant sound of sirens that were making their way towards us. Help had come at last._

"_Hold on, Derrick. You're going to make it. Just hold on a little longer." _

_I barely noticed the pain traveling up my leg when I stood and started running to the emergency vehicles. "Help! We need help over here! Please help us!"_

_Many firefighters rushed past me to the car, but there were some that stayed and helped me to the back of an ambulance where an EMT began to treat my sprained ankle and clean my scratched face and palms. So many questions were being asked, I did my best to answer them calmly while watching the firefighters bring out the Jaws of Life. _

_After what seemed like an eternity, the driver side door was finally pried away and they carefully pulled Derrick from his mangled car. I started to stand but was gently pushed down by a middle aged woman. "It's best not to stand on your foot, honey. You won't get very far. Don't you worry now, they're bringing him."_

"_I want to ride with Derrick," I whispered. When I looked up at her, I could see sympathy and compassion on her face. _

"_You will. I promise you will." And with that, she gave me a comforting hug that I gratefully returned. _

_I pressed myself against the wall of the ambulance as best I could when they brought in Derrick on a stretcher. His spine and neck had already been immobilized. _

"_Is he going to be alright?" I asked no one in particular. The rest was a blur of activity as the paramedics worked to save his life. The whole experience took on a surreal quality, voices fading in and out of my awareness._

"_Broken ribs…punctured lung…chest tube…oxygen…broken neck…blood pressure?...stop the bleeding…going into shock…blood pressure's dropping…Julia?"_

_When I heard Derrick whisper my name, I sprang to my feet inside the speeding ambulance. "Please, he needs me. Let me hold his hand, please," I begged. _

_The EMT's parted slightly and allowed me to kneel beside the stretcher._

_As we sped off to the nearest hospital, I gingerly held Derrick's cut hands in mine, hoping to provide him some comfort._

_It was going to be alright. We were going to make it. I didn't care how long it would take; I would stand vigil at his bedside. I would nurse Derrick back to health. I would feed him and adjust his pillows and wait on him hand and foot. I would love him unconditionally for the rest of our lives. I was willing to spend all eternity repaying the love I had almost lost. _

_Suddenly, one of the bruised hands released itself from mine and shakily traveled up to my face, caressing it gently, just like he had done a little more than an hour ago. _

_Drawing a weak breath, I turned to look into his beautiful eyes. _

_I had expected there to be pain and suffering. Maybe even anger or blame. _

_But there wasn't._

_Those blue-green eyes were filled with nothing but love and forgiveness. The two things I did not deserve were there, bringing tears to my own eyes._

_Before I could even speak, to tell Derrick I was sorry, I slowly came to realize that the life in his eyes were fading._

"_Derrick, no. No, stay with me, baby. Derrick, please don't leave me!" Nobody and nothing else continued to exist in that ambulance; it was just me and Derrick left in the world. _

_Before I could try to stop it, Death drew a long breath and without much effort, blew out the dim lights. Derrick's eyes were now two extinguished candles, never again to light my way in life._

_The hand that was still on my face had already begun to turn cold and fell limply onto the stretcher. But I didn't do anything. I sat there, stunned. My one and only love was now gone, just like that. _

_And it was all my fault._

_I broke down into sobs that never before had spilled with such force. Lying my head on Derrick's shoulder, I began to speak to God, "Why, God? Why me? Why Derrick? What have we done to deserve this? Please, God, this can't be happening. I don't understand, why did you take him from me? No, I won't let this happen! No!"_

"NO!" I forced myself out of one of the many recurring nightmares I had endured the past four and a half months. Without looking around me, I placed my face into my hands and wept into them. While I was crying, I noticed my hands felt unusually heavy and there was an odd clinking noise that could be heard moving with my trembling body.

Eventually, I had calmed down enough but still held my hands securely over my face. For some reason I couldn't explain, there was this unrelenting fear filling my soul, telling me if I took away my hands, bad things would happen.

"Well good mornin', sunshine!" I jumped and dropped my weighted hands to my heart when I heard that high, inhuman voice speak. As I stared at the source of the cold voice leaning nonchalantly against a wall, and a wave of recent memories crashed into me, it was then I wished that I had stayed in my nightmare.

**A/N: I promise you, there will be more Julia/Joker interaction in upcoming chapters....a lot more! ;D**

**Thanks for reading!!!**


	7. Guilt Compounded

**Oh my goodness, you guys. I am so, so sorry for the insanely long wait! Writer's block is certainly not fun at all. :( Thankfully, mischieflover and Pirate College Graduate gave me suggestions in order to help get the chapter going. I am truly grateful for their help! **

**I have to do something before you start though...**

**Oh my God! Heath won the Oscar!!!! I am sooo happy! I teared up so much when his family accepted the award. Heath was very deserving of the honor. Congratulations, Heath! We all love and miss you terribly. **

**As I promised, there is plenty of Julia/Joker interaction in this chapter...and upcoming ones for that matter. I really hope you enjoy the continuation of my story and I hope you'll forgive me for the horribly long wait. **

**Disclaimer:**

**The Joker belongs to DC Comics  
Julia Brighton belongs to me**

The two of us stared at each other for the longest time, he with a sickly smile that stretched his scars until they looked like they could split open, and I …There were so many emotions whirling through me that it's difficult to determine what he saw.

Fear. The most blatant expression of them all. I was not the only one to feel fear in this man's presence. And I would most certainly not be the last.

There was sadness of course. After all, I had just awoken from a nightmare that was constantly a reminder of losing the only man who ever loved me. But I was also slowly coming to realize that I may never see my family again. Oliver and Kimmy's sweet faces appeared in brief memories that almost made me smile. I thought of Kimmy's excessive, energetic spirit and the twinkle that shined in Oliver's eyes whenever he got into mischief.

Then I remembered Kat and her elfish figure. She barely made it to my shoulders, her sprite face filled with never-ending happiness. It tore me up inside to imagine Kat learning of my abduction. And Justin. I knew he would find a way to blame himself for not protecting me more carefully. I wished that I could have told him it was all my fault, not his.

I was also confused. Why did the Joker kidnap _me_? He did give his reasons on the Gotham Theatre stage, but there had to be more to it than that. I was almost sure he wasn't really punishing Melia. But what, then?

"Did ya have a nice nap, kiddo?" I shivered when I heard his voice. It was so cold. Far too high. If I wanted to answer him, I don't think I could have. My throat was incredibly dry, and I felt groggy. A dull pain throbbed from the back of my head to my temples.

My lack of response didn't seem to faze him; he continued to grin widely, almost as if he were sharing a private joke with himself. A private joke that I too would learn very soon. He examined his gloved fingers, talking to himself more than to me.

"All that hollarin'…it's enough to blow someone's eardrums right out!"

I could feel humiliation burn my face. Did I reveal anything about Derrick's death? Had the words I screamed out in my nightmare manifested themselves in reality?

"I've never heard anyone scream with such _desperation_ quite like you…'No Derrick! Please don't leave me!'"

I mentally cursed my subconscious for loosening my unwilling lips. My sensitive nerves were being plucked dynamically by the staccato of his mockery.

"So he left ya, hmm? He finally figured out that you weren't the right woman to fulfill his ahh …lust."

My embarrassment quickly replaced itself with relief. My secret was safe! This would be easy; I would let him make his false assumptions. I alone knew the truth. His taunting would be ineffective. I knew how to play along.

I put on an expression of utter defeat, nodding slowly and casting my eyes downward to another part of the cobwebbed room I was held prisoner in.

"Well is it really that surprising? After all, you know what they say about re-duh heads…red in the head, good in the bed!"

I tried to hide the shocked sketching across my face. I may have made a critical mistake by deciding to play along with him. All I could do was try to ignore the slander he was hurling at me.

"That's it, isn't it?" Your _Derrick_," he spat out my love's name, as if it alone had left a bad taste in his mouth. "Deserted you after he had his fun. Oh sure, you thought it would last forever, but that wasn't the case was it?"

_Just ignore him, Julia. He's wrong. He doesn't know a thing about our relationship._

"Another woman shared Derrick's love. And one day he woke up and realized that he was finally ready to commit. Sure, you were a lotta fun and passionate and all that jazz. But deep down, Derrick. Just. Didn't. Love you."

"Shut up! Just stop it, already!" Angry tears filled my eyes as I yelled at my abductor, who simply raised his blackened eyebrow amusedly at my outburst. "You know nothing about my relationship with Derrick!"

"If those were the circumstances, there really was no reason to plead with him to stay then, was there?"

"He died! He was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver! Are you happy, now?"

"Extremely." The Joker released himself from his relaxed position against the wall and strolled towards me ever so casually. I pressed into whatever I leaned against, wishing I could sink beneath the surface and disappear from him forever. The strange clinking I had heard before seemed to move with my body again, but it wasn't enough to distract me from the drawing presence this man possessed. As much as I feared him, I could not find the will or desire to turn away. "I knew I could find some way to getcha to open that mouth of yours. If you can speak in front of thousands of people onstage, you can most certainly chat with me."

I studied him as he crossed the room in what I perceived as slow motion, yet ironically, he stood before me in no time. He swooped down and grabbed my upper arms, not roughly, but firmly, jerking me up to my feet. The clatter of what seemed to be metal was a sort of musical accompaniment for his every emphasized syllable as my shoulders oscillated under his grasp.

"You're a pretty convincin' ack-tress, Miss Brighton. But if you dare to participate in my lil game, you're gonna play by the rules. And the only rule you need to remember is…no fibbing"

He drew is face closer to my own; the putrid stench of his breath fanning my face caused my eyes to water.

"I know a lot more than you can ever imagine, Miss Brighton. You get off lucky this time. But take into consideration that if I catch you in another lie, and believe me, I will, I won't be so lenient and will have no choice but to teach you a lesson. Now…do we have an understanding with each other?"

When I failed to answer quickly enough for his taste, the Joker pushed me away and reeled me back into his chest. A force from behind tried to pull me awkwardly away from him, the clanking louder than ever. Looking down for the first time, I felt any hope for a chance to escape dash away instantly.

Clasping my wrists tightly were cold, metal shackles. Long chains protruded from them, surrounding my feet on the floor ten or so feet before attaching securely onto the wall.

Oh, do you like your housewarming gift, angel face?" The Joker took my hand and twirled me under the chains. "I got these especially for you. Much more creative than the traditional wrists and ankles bound to a chair," When I was turned to face him once more, I heard the air whiz past my ears before I felt myself being pinned against the wall. "Wouldn't you agree?"

The Joker's hot breath fogged my awareness, I could barely breathe. When I attempted to turn away, he seized my jaw and pulled until he was in my line of vision. As he scrutinized me, I tried not to look into his eyes, which were as black as embers from Hell. I feared if I were to glance into the burning irises, the intensity alone would be enough to scald me to death. But I didn't want to focus on his scars either. I remembered that when I stared at them not too long ago, I was rewarded with a knife pressed into the corner of my lip. Instead, I fixed my eyes on his barely concealed brow, a trick I had learned when dealing with years of shyness. It appeared as though I was gazing into his eyes, but I was safe from them locking onto mine.

"These crafty lil guys, they can perform an array of endless tricks. For example, let's say you're givin' me a lotta trouble. I simply take this," he lifted one of the long coils dramatically. "And wrap it around like so…" The links rang in my ears as the chain coiled slowly around my neck once. I began to tremble as the Joker backed carefully away from me, still clutching a section of the chain. "All I have to do now is ahh…_tug_."

Panic wiped away any logical thought I had left in me as the links constricted around my throat. Frantically, I grasped at the tightening chains, trying desperately to free my blocked windpipe. Through the confusion and the sounds of my pitiful whimpers and gurgles for air, I still somehow managed to watch the Joker. He observed my struggles calmly, continually pulling the chain with ease.

Fearful, I imagined the soft, ringing of chains would soon be joined by the gruesome sounds of my bones being crushed. In only a matter of time, the coils would tear through my vulnerable flesh and that would be the end of me.

I barely registered my knees slamming onto the dusty floor at the Joker's feet, the wall no longer able to support my body against the insistent pulls. My eyes bulged and began to stream when cool air teased them, unable to travel down my gaping mouth.

I believed I would soon be lost forever when a purple hand came into view and released me, the chains scraping painfully against my face before falling to the floor. But it didn't matter, all I cared about was feeling the gush of air swim freely down my throat, filling grateful lungs. I brought my hand to my neck, gingerly massaging the raw skin.

Before I had completely finished filling my deprived lungs, I could hear a fairly heavy object sliding across the floor. Through my tears, I made out a blur coming at me with much force; my fast reflexes had to barricade its path before it could slam into my arms. Wiping away the salty water from my eyes, I stared dumbfounded at what the Joker kicked to me.

My memory box.

I ran my shaking fingers over the smooth, mahogany surface, trying to feel for any damage that may have come to it. Sure enough, splinters from a small dent in the back embedded themselves into my skin, caused by the Joker's kick. My heart racing, I fumbled with the lid that never seemed to want to remain clasped, carefully lifting each item to make sure everything was there. Nothing appeared to be broken, so I quietly snapped the lid shut, pulling it closer to me.

He must have broken into my apartment one day when I was at rehearsal. My heart pounded even harder against my ribcage when I imagined him going through my private possessions. Never in my life had I felt so violated, so unclean with the thought of him strolling around in my apartment at his leisure.

And it just wasn't when I was away. He was there, watching my every move. We had been in the same rooms many times and I never perceived his presence. It finally made sense. The smell of gasoline coming from his overcoat was the same scent that had wafted in my apartment on many occasions.

He had planned this for some time, perhaps when I first stepped into the taxi he happened to be driving. But why? I just couldn't understand what possible motive he had for taking me. Was I simply in the wrong place at the wrong time that night? Was this just some random idea that popped into his head?

Why me?

I lifted my head to stare at him in bewilderment, but he had gone. I didn't even hear him leave. What made this man tick? What made him almost choke me one minute then leave me the next? As if nothing had happened.

All I could do was rest against the wall with my cherished box sitting on my lap, so many questions swimming in my mind one after the other. The time I spent alone with my thoughts seemed to stretch for an eternity until three separate locks turned in a precise order and a door opened. There was a short pause before grunts and cautious footsteps could be heard ascending the creaky stairs which lay in front of me. Slowly, the heads of two clown-masked men appeared at the edge, carrying a medium-sized television.

I stared at them with curious interest when they placed the television just out of my reach and ran an extension cord to the wall across the room. Neither said a word, to each other or me. They were just there to do their job. Without glancing my way, they both left, leaving me with additional confusion. This couldn't possibly be a way for me to pass the time. The Joker would never allow it.

Once again, footsteps climbed the stairs, heavy and uneven. A sense of purpose with every step taken. The painted visage of my abductor slowly came into view, a sardonic smirk already playing across his face.

"Since you've had ample opportunity to uh…mull things over a bit, I think it's time you and I had some fun."

He gave me a quick grin before bending down to my eye level, the soles of his worn shoes holding his weight.

"Let's just take a gander at what you've been hiding for so long." I felt my eyes narrow involuntarily as I held the box closer to my chest, wrapping my arms protectively around it to the best of my ability. He began to pry them away, attempting to wrench the box out of my grip.

"No!" Sense seemed to have vanished completely, for I had grabbed at his wrist without a care for my own safety. The two of us wrestled over the box, the Joker laughing all the while, tickled at my stubbornness. Soon, he stood, pulling me up with him as we continued our tug of war match. Each pull from me matched with a slightly stronger one from him. Would I be allowed to win this little game of his?

"Why do you insist on struggling, Miss Brighton? Haven't you figured it out yet? You seem to think you can win against me…but I _always win_. Your efforts to resist will prove to be unequivocally fruitless."

With that, a final jerk wrested the box from my aching arms and sent me smacking into the wall. The Joker took a few steps toward me, wagging his finger sternly.

"Exactly what is it with re-duh heads and those fiery tempers of theirs? It's so…uncontrollable. Almost unpredictable. Does all that rage really do 'em any good?" He raised a strand of my hair, twisting it around his gloved fingers. I stiffened at his touch, but determinedly stared at a corner of the room. "Not that I mind, of course. That lil temper is quite…becoming on you. Much better than the glum expression you usually wear. But all the answers to your sadness lie right here in this box, don't they?"

Setting the box at my feet, he began to rummage through it before pulling out several framed photographs, arranging them on the floor.

"Well isn't this just _precious_?" The Joker straightened, holding one of Derrick's favorite photos of the two of us. It was taken at a party thrown for me and Jackie when we arrived back from our fourteen day excursion to France. Derrick had me cradled in his arms, the two of us sharing affectionate smiles as we beamed at the camera.

Lowering it, he then held up one snapped by Derrick's brother. In this picture, I was riding on top of his back, our cheeks pressed against one another as our faces glowed with the same smiles as the previous photo. I almost didn't recognize myself. I looked so- - happy. My usual exuberance seemed like a distant memory, now overcome with dolor.

The Joker glanced up from the photo, eyeing me with disgust. As if the two of us sharing our love for each other nauseated him. Still staring me down, the Joker released the two frames, allowing them to plummet into the box. I could feel my heart shatter along with the sounds of broken glass.

And so it continued. The Joker would reach for a new photo, jeering at it before dropping it back into the box with its like. Each ruined frame represented a memory; birthdays, holidays, vacations. As he destroyed each one, I felt like he was destroying a part of me. I could feel my trepidation begin to emerge, but thankfully it wasn't enough to make the tears flow.

"Such a sweet, yuppie couple you two were," the Joker commented as he threw the final photo into the box. I winced at not only the shattered pieces of glass, but at the chill of his sarcasm. He stepped towards me, lifting my chin and turning my head every which way, almost as if he were inspecting me. "Not a single tear…I'm slightly impressed. But not to worry, m'dear. We've just barely scratched the surface. By the time we're through, you'll be bawlin' them baby blues right outta their sockets. I guarantee it."

With a few omniscient pats on my cheek, he went over to the box once more, searching through the shards of glass before pulling out three DVD cases. My heart began to race when he went over to the television, inserting a disc into it.

"This is Derrick Grey and I am at the local airport awaiting Julia and Jackie's return. The plane should be arriving shortly if everything goes according to schedule. Of course, so many of us have questions for the two voyagers. Everything from what the view was like from the Eiffel Tower to if they were brave enough to try escargot- which means snails for those of you who don't speak French…in other words, me. Julia may try to convince me to move across the pond but in all honesty, I'm just not that great with languages. But I am willing to visit France as long as my adorable, personal translator is by my side."

I felt like a sideline spectator watching the scene unfold through Derrick's eyes as he searched the crowd for his beloved. Emerging, Jackie and I perused the throng until finally, recognition- reunion- reward when our eyes locked on each other. My airport-self then threw off the bag strapped over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She didn't want anything weighing her down as she ran toward her boyfriend.

Derrick's playful chuckle could be heard before he began narrating once more. "And it appears Julia has dropped her carry-on! Sweetie, I hope to God nobody trips over it and gets hurt. That would be bad. Oh wait, looks like Jackie's picking it up; good call." Jackie could be seen in the background stooping over and throwing the bag over her already burdened shoulders. She didn't seem to mind though; she smiled warmly as she shook her head in a teasing manner.

Video-Julia had squealed excitedly before throwing herself into Derrick's arms, who stepped back, pretending to almost lose his balance. The video was then a blur of colors and shapes as he spun her around a few times, the sounds of their joyful laughter drowning out the typical noises in an airport.

"Here Derrick, do you want me to take that off your hands for a minute?" The camera shook slightly as it transferred from her love to Jackie. After a few adjustments, Derrick and my younger self came into view, arms around each other in a loving embrace.

"I missed you every day, sweetie." Derrick looked her eyes, caressing her cheek softly. He glanced over to her best friend, his mouth turning into a guilty smile. "Missed you too, Jackie."

"By all means, pretend I'm not here. I've always dreamed of witnessing the reunion between a pair of star-crossed lovers at an airport. Please continue."

Derrick obliged, pulling her closer to him. She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head against his shoulder. It looked as though she were in a dream-like state, her lids closed and a smile filling her face when she spoke, "You have no idea how much I've missed you." He kissed the top of her head, nuzzling his face in the copper hair.

I, not the one who was in the arms of someone she loved, but the one chained to a wall, could feel the sadness become more alive, but still controlled. The rest of the video would have shown me and Jackie being interviewed by Derrick, like we were famous celebrities instead of ordinary young women. It seemed to have gotten too boring for the Joker, for he stopped the movie. When he tossed the case back into the box, he examined me once more.

"Still nothing, hmm? No matter, that was just a warm-up in order to get the ball rollin'. You're already starting to crumble like a statue before my eyes. I think after a couple more doses, we will finally tear down your wall of resistance."

The second DVD brought back a flood of memories. Memories of what could very well have been the happiest moment in my life. My clever guy had insisted that I wear a particular dress, his "absolute favorite" he said. I had argued and questioned why, but in the end, his tenaciousness won out. The dress, as it turned out, was the very same that I had worn to my audition for a role in his first independent film two years previously.

His premise was that he wanted to run an idea by me for a new movie and, would I, "just watch the video all the way through before passing judgment?" I agreed, still wondering why donning a certain dress was a prerequisite to viewing the tape.

Unbeknownst to me, he had skillfully spliced and edited my screen test, _and_ he was secretly filming while I watched this videotape _of _me,_ both_ Julias wearing the same dress. It was all very surreal!

There were scenes of him interspersed throughout the video, in order to advance the story of a rather well-to-do young man's proposal of marriage to an average, middle-class girl. The close-up of the ring was accompanied by an explanation that it had first been worn by his great-grandmother, who bequeathed it to her first born son to give to his fiancé, and had zigzagged now through four generations, ready to be presented by him to the love of his life.

"So, what do you think?" Derrick probed after the screen went black.

Julia, a year older from when the airport scene had taken place, sat there in stunned silence. Had she been watching a touching love story? A sweet plot for Derrick's next project? Was this a bizarre episode of Candid Camera? Or…? Before she could finish the thought, Derrick knelt at her feet and slowly opened a deep-blue velvet ring box. Dazzling her eyes, the same beautiful antique ring now hypnotized her. Its timeless beauty left her utterly speechless.

"So Miss Julia Brighton, will you marry an aspiring director and make him the happiest man alive?"

She sprung into his arms and when she finally released him; his questioning blue-green eyes made her realize that she had overlooked a verbal response.

"Yes!" she squealed. "Yes," she whispered again and again as he lovingly slid the ring onto her finger.

"And they lived happily. Ever. After…" I was abruptly brought back to the present reality by the Joker's sneering. The water that had been continually collecting in my eyes finally flooded over the levees and traveled down my face.

"I think we should play this last movie anyway…just for good measure."

The Joker sauntered to the television once more, a slight spring in his step. He opened the case slowly, throwing me sideways glances every so often. "This may have been my favorite one, Miss Brighton. You certainly give an Oscar worthy performance."

My already sunken heart plunged deeper. Not_ that _ butthat one_._ I gripped one of my fingers, rubbing it frantically. During my short residency in Gotham, the nervous habit that I had picked up after Derrick's death had begun to extinguish. But if the Joker showed that particular video, my progress would be erased.

"Please." Through my tears, I managed to choke out that one, strangled word. The Joker glanced up, his tongue swiping one side of his scarred cheek. "I can't watch this. I promised Derrick I wouldn't watch it after I made it."

The Joker ignored my pleas. He turned his back on me, opening the drive to place the DVD inside.

"Don't do this to me. Not after I promised him. Why can't you understand that it was a promise? A promise!" I screamed at him hysterically, rubbing my finger at a more frenzied pace. I spun around, pushing my body against the wall. I wasn't going to watch. He couldn't make me…

Leather hands grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to face the television again. The Joker pressed my back against him, one of his arms slithering over my own in an iron grip. The other pulled a remote out of his pocket, pressing the Play button. He stuffed it back before slapping his hand over my mouth, muffling my sobs.

The image that came up on the screen already seemed unfamiliar. Though the ensemble was carefully put together, a simple black dress, hair pulled back into a soft bun, makeup covering dark circles from sleepless, tear-filled nights, one could still see the woman dying inside.

"Hi Derrick." Even the voice was different. No longer cheerful, but sad. A hint of disbelief could be detected as well. The changed woman looked down, unsure of how to continue. "About a few months after we got engaged, you told me that whoever would be the first to die, and no matter what age we were, the surviving spouse would make their own personal video. It would never be viewed by anyone, not even themselves…"

My eyes darted unwittingly at the Joker, who let out a few short snickers.

"You said the video would symbolize our connection, since it has forever been my dream to act in movies and you were always seen with your trusty video camera in hand.

"Now, you explained to me that this was a way for the survivor to talk to their deceased partner. To say the things that couldn't be said out loud. To express our thoughts, our feelings. To let it all out, thus beginning the process of grieving and healing. Then, on the anniversary of our love's passing, the other would bury the unwatched video at their gravesite, twelve months of mourning coming to an end.

"I always thought it was a strange request, but I agreed nonetheless. And now, it suddenly makes sense. That night we were in the ambulance, I never got to tell you how sorry I am. I was the one who sent you out in the storm to get that stupid movie. If I wasn't being such a bitch, none of this would have happened. You wouldn't have gotten killed and we would still be together. We would still be happy."

The Julia filming herself brought a trembling hand to her mouth, trying desperately to hold back the unshed tears. The face was turning to a splotchy pink, the emotions becoming harder to restrain.

"No one believes that it was my fault, Derrick. No one does. I tried to explain to your family, but they cut me off every time. They condemn the drunk driver, not the one who actually put you in the situation. Justin and Kat don't seem to understand. Even my best friend is convinced I'm not to blame for you death. But I am, Derrick. I am to blame!"

She could not fight it any longer. The Julia sitting on a chair before the camera lurched forward, burying her face in her hands. The quiet whimpers gradually became louder, her shoulders shuddering violently. The two of us wept together, some of my own tears flowing over the Joker's gloved hand.

"Even you forgave me, Derrick. I could see it in your eyes." She had released her face and stared into the lens, livid. "But what all of you fail to understand is that I am not worthy of forgiveness. I don't want pity, because I deserved to be hated by everyone. Your family should have rejected me, not continue to care about me. Justin should disown his sister, not love her. Society itself needs to cast me out! Enough with the remissions already! I am through with unmerited sympathy!"

I watched the Julia on the screen lean back in the chair, trying to catch her breath. I myself was breathless. I had been told before that my temper was an unfavorable quality that I possessed. But never had I witnessed myself losing all control. No wonder people would shy away from me whenever I became angry. It was frightening; my eyes were narrowed and dangerous. They no longer looked like gentle springs, but piercing ice.

Finally, she had calmed down, looking back into the camera. Her face was calm and the ice seemed to have melted. "I'm going to give the ring back to your mom, Derrick. That way Norman can use it when he meets the love of his life.

"I love you, Derrick. The four years we had spent together were the happiest of my life. I will miss you every single day for as long as I live." Carefully, she wiped away the tears and mascara residue. And then with a deep breath, she slowly removed the engagement ring from her finger. "Goodbye," she whispered, before pointing a small remote at the camera, the screen going black.

I wasn't aware that the Joker had finally released me until I wilted to the floor, my shaky legs no longer able to support my vapid weight. I dried the tears on my sleeve as he went off to the television, speaking into a walkie talkie. As he made his way back over to me, the two masked men from before came up the stairs and proceeded to take the television away. The center hole of the DVD was around one of his fingers, spinning like a wheel. Staring down at me, he placed both hands on the disc, starting to bend it. Before I knew what was about to happen, it snapped sharply down the middle before falling into the box.

The unspoken gesture could not have been clearer. Dead or alive, I would never be released from the Joker. There would be no return to Virginia, no return of any kind.

One of the men returned to collect the box, the contents rattled from his careless handling. But I supposed it didn't make a difference anymore. This may have been the last time I would ever see it again.

"And so, we finally unravel the tragic tale of Miss Brighton. People she assumes truly love her don't listen to what she has to say. Your family and friends only sugarcoated it to get ya to stop your boo-hooin'."

The Joker bent down to the same position as he had before, inches from me. But for once, I didn't press myself against the wall nor did I look away.

"Me, I tell it like it is. Nobody wants to believe that sweet, lil Miss Brighton here could have had anythin' to do with lover boy's demise. But ya did. That volatile lil temper of yours drove him outta the house and over a cliff, didn't it? It was _all…your…fault_. And no amount of tears can wash away the guilt."

His serpentine tongue jutted out briefly, almost as if he were tasting the charged atmosphere. Rummaging through an inside pocket of his overcoat, the Joker pulled something out, tossing it to me. Startled, I caught the blurred object in both hands.

"Consider this a token from my own Tree of Knowledge." The Joker rose and when he descended the stairs, it was then I found some amount of courage to whisper what I had been thinking.

"You are the only one who sees me for what I truly am." If he had heard me, he didn't acknowledge it. His retreating back eventually disappeared from view, footsteps going down a hallway after sliding three locks into place. Looking down at my hands, I debated what to do with the object given to me.

My first thought was to fling it far across the room, letting it slam into the wall in defiance. But it was so perfect. Not a single mark on the soft skin. Its sweet smell was enough to make my stomach constrict hungrily. Lifting it to my lips without a thought of the consequences, I took a bite out of the apple. The juices flowed over my thirsty lips and into my dry mouth, satisfying my needs. I took another bite and another until all that was left were tiny seeds tucked away in the core.

I had given in to the temptation.

**Since I know _exactly _what I want to have happen for the next few chapters, I'm hoping updates will be more frequent. Of course, it will all depend on how much work my teachers decide to give me for the next two months, so we'll see what happens. At least there won't be writer's block for awhile! **

**Thank you so much for reading!!! :D**


	8. Tedium and Terror

I grimaced out of annoyance when the chains pulled against my wrists, allowing me to go no further. I turned and began walking in the opposite direction, casting a disdainful eye around the bleak room. There really wasn't much point in exploring my own personal prison, it was completely bare and I could only go so far without being held back. Now I knew what it was like to be a dog tethered in a backyard, being denied freedom by one simple yank on its collar.

During the beginning of my captivity, I was permitted to leave my prison a few times to eat. The sound of three locks, always opened in the same order, were followed by the quick, shuffled footsteps of one of the Joker's clown-masked toadies. I would then be released, if only temporarily, to be escorted to the dingy kitchen where under watchful eye and armed guard, I was allowed to consume yet another frozen entrée from the bargain aisle of the grocery store, another opportunity to fill my grumbling stomach with more monotony. My allotted fifteen minutes to eat were always followed by a quick stop at the antiquated and filthy bathroom. Then back to the attic to be re-shackled. My feeble attempts at conversation were met with stony silence, so eventually I gave up trying. That was the extent of my daily exercise.

_Yes,_ I often thought bitterly, _this place could certainly use a woman's touch._

Up in the attic, I was all alone with only my thoughts to keep me from boredom. At first, I thought of Derrick, but the grief and guilt continued to drive me to tears. Deciding not to make myself anymore miserable than I already was, I tried to think of guiltless times with my family and friends. Out of everyone, Justin and Jackie appeared in my mind the most often.

Justin. Good old, overly protective big brother. From the time when I was a little girl, he always held my hand to keep me from falling. Through the years, his actions transformed, but the theme of protection was forever present.

It was my father's absence that resulted in Justin having to take on so many responsibilities. He did the best he could to step in and fill the void in my life. I don't believe I had truly thanked Justin for all he had done for me throughout the years. And I would have given anything to do so now.

Thinking about my older brother didn't seem to help; it made me miss home and my family that much more. So I tried to think of Jackie instead, and happy memories the two of us shared.

* * *

Jackie and I had met for the first time when we were seven years of age. We both attended a sleep away camp that summer; in fact, we were in the same group. The Blue Whales I think our group was called. It was something corny like that, as most camp names tend to be. We were both painfully shy, and didn't say much to anyone. But I remembered thinking she was nice, though I couldn't gather up the courage to introduce myself.

However, that all changed on our third day. After a morning hike, we were all taken to the art building. I had expected to make lanyards or birdhouses made out of popsicle sticks until the counselors raced in. Squeals of delight filled the air at the happy-faced adults. The head counselor informed us excitedly that we would have some special guests visiting and that we were to make ourselves up to welcome them. With a loud clap of her hands, everyone rushed forward to the table filled with face paints. As I stood in line, I noticed Jackie sat frozen in her seat with her legs pulled up to her chest in what appeared to be a defensive position. Deciding this would be a good opportunity to officially meet, I grabbed an extra paper plate dotted with rainbows of colors. When I made my way back to the table, I stopped suddenly, alarmed to see that Jackie was crying. Seated next to her were Victoria and Courtney from the Yellow Bumblebees, two rude girls that I tried to avoid at all costs. They were snickering cruelly at Jackie, pointing at her tear-stained face.

"_Only babies cry," Courtney whined in her irritatingly high voice._

"_I'm not a baby," Jackie managed to choke out._

"_You are too!" Victoria leaned forward, causing Jackie to shrink away. "You're a baby and a scaredy cat because you're afraid of clowns."_

_Jackie looked all around her, trying to find someone who would come to her rescue. But all the counselors were busy helping other children spread white paint over their faces and draw smiles past the corners of their mouths. I was the only witness. I thought of getting the head counselor, but I knew Victoria and Courtney would lie through their teeth. _

_Taking a deep breath, I walked over to the table. "You leave her alone," I said quietly, gathering any ounce of courage I had in me._

_They looked up at me in surprise, hardly believing that quiet Julia Brighton would ever stand up to them. _

"_Or what?" Victoria snapped, the shock finally wearing off. "What are you going to do about it? Tattle on us?"_

"_No. You just shouldn't be so mean to someone. What did she do to you?"_

_Victoria and Courtney exchanged bewildered looks, spluttering unintelligibly. _

"_She's scared of clowns!" Courtney cried, as if that justified their rudeness. _

"_You two are bullies," I muttered. Taking Jackie's hand, I led her to another table situated near a corner. When we sat down, I looked at her shyly. "We don't have to be clowns if you don't want to. I could paint you as your favorite animal if you'd like."_

_Jackie slowly began to relax, giving me a timid smile. "I like wolves."_

_I grinned excitedly back at her. "Me too! They're really pretty animals." I started to mix black and white together until a warm grey was created. Carefully, I spread the paint on her forehead. "My name's Julia."_

"_Yes, I know. I'm Jackie." We didn't say anything while I finished applying the grey and delicately painted black around one of her eyes. "Thank you for helping me."_

"_You're welcome. Don't ever listen to them, they're just mean." I could tell Jackie was still embarrassed, so I decided to change the subject. "Your hair is really pretty."_

_Jackie gave a small giggle. "I like yours a lot. We both have red hair!"

* * *

_

And that was the start of our everlasting friendship. Over the years, we became so much more than best friends. We were sisters, not by blood, but by our similarities and love for one another. And it killed me inside to remember the last time I had spoken to her. She didn't deserve to be snapped at. If anything, I wished I could somehow let her know how sorry I was. I wished I could apologize.

So much guilt had been accumulating inside me over the past few months, draining my soul. No matter what I tried to do, contrition was my constant companion during my solitary confinement.

But it would dash away instantly when…_he_ would pay me a visit. A sense of relief spread through me whenever I would hear the heavy, uneven footsteps ascend the stairs.

I knew I should feel frightened in his presence, and there was no doubting that I did. There was always the possibility I would not survive each new encounter. But my desperate need for human contact was far greater than the fear.

The visits were always brief, and the wait between each one stretched further and further. Of course, I had suspected that was his true intent. He alienated me on purpose; his men were under strict orders to never say a word to me. And when the moment was right, after the sorrowful and guilt-consuming thoughts continually rampaged through my being, he would come. He knew what I truly needed; to talk, to break the monotonous routine and maybe not feel quite so rejected. And in this precise, organized scheme, perhaps in his own twisted way, he wanted me to believe he was the hero in all of this.

The Joker wanted me to be sane enough to understand that I was completely dependent on him. But God forbid the prospect of being normal. Because according to him, where was the fun in normalcy?

When I caught the abrupt sound of a pair of heavy feet, I promptly returned to my place on the unclean floor, and dare I say it, almost yearned for it to be my abductor coming up for a new visiting session. It felt like an eternity had passed in my lonely imprisonment since I had last spoken to him. I had begun to believe he was growing tired of his new captive and decided to finally leave me for dead.

However, my heart sunk upon hearing another set of shoes hobbling behind the first. I slouched against the wall, irked that I would have to endure another round of forced muteness when I was taken to eat.

As the hooded and masked zanies entered, I lifted my hands half-heartedly, having become acquainted with the same old routine very quickly. After they unshackled my wrists and began to once again lead me down the creaking stairs, I could not help but notice their grip had tightened significantly from previous trips. I nervously glanced at the henchmen, but neither acknowledged my worry.

Once we arrived to the kitchen with its boarded windows, I immediately noticed something was amiss. Every time I had come down to fill my increasingly weak body, there was something always sitting at the table waiting for me, already beginning to cool. But this time, I could not even detect the bland smell of my meal plan.

As I turned to question my escorts, I cried out in fright when rope suddenly bound my hands and a blindfold wrapped tightly over my eyes. My attempted struggles became futile when I felt the barrel of a gun press sharply into the nape of my neck. I fell silent. I was forced out the side door that was always guarded as I ate. I stumbled as we walked through what felt like overgrown grass, only to be yanked back up again with impatience.

We abruptly came to a halt, one holding my shoulders to keep me in place while the other continued ahead. I started when ear-splitting squeaks from hinges noisily filled the deceivingly calm air.

Was this maybe to act as a new holding cell for me? Once through the portal, the walk proved to be much smoother, for the men had lessened their rough handling significantly.

Inside, we covered a short distance before something hard collided with my foot. I winced, trying so hard to not make a sound, since the gun was still positioned firmly at my neck. Hoisting me up, the three of us climbed five steep stairs until all of the sudden, I was turned ruthlessly before being slammed into something. The back of my head and spine throbbed from this impact. Almost immediately, more rope constricted my body, binding me securely to whatever I was pressed against.

Without missing a beat, I could now feel rough objects being propped against my legs. Whatever they were, a few had torn through the fabric of my now grungy ivory costume and stabbed at my skin like prickling blunt needles.

The blindfold was finally ripped off and my deprived eyes started to become accustomed to the dimly lit surroundings. I was now being held in a fairly large make-shift shed of some sort; bridles and various tools hung against the walls just above sacks, each filled with different contents. It wasn't until the two handlers jumped down that I realized I had been placed on a wooden structure in the center of the shed. One of them turned on a projector I had not yet noticed on the floor in front of me. The machine whirred to life, but the white screen just beyond it remained unlit.

I stared helplessly after the silent henchmen as they made their exit, their task completed. I wanted to cry out to them, I wanted an explanation for what I was about to be put through. Without looking back, they banged the door shut, leaving me to my unknown torment.

My struggles to loosen the ropes proved utterly pointless, they had bound me too tight. I couldn't even turn my head to see what, if anything, was behind me. I leaned my head back in frustration, glancing up at the source that kept me in place. They had tied me to what appeared to be a wooden pole situated at the center of the crudely-made platform they left me on. Trying to hold in my ever growing panic, I looked down in horror at what happened to be encircling me.

Brambles of many sized sticks with twisted shapes were at my feet, some that had managed to pierce my dress continued to poke and prod at my vulnerable flesh. My heart pumped persistently against my numb ribcage as I prayed uselessly to the God who seemed to have abandoned me forever. I could not help but desperately wish to be back up in the attic once more, rotting away as my abductor forgot about me. He surely had to focus on bigger, more important designs of destruction.

Whiffs of kerosene bombarded my nostrils and occasional crackles from behind reached my ears. On the blank screen before me, I could discern my own shadow, surrounded by a corona of flickering firelight. I quickly came to realize who now controlled my inescapable fate.

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! If you are a returning reader, welcome back! If you are new to reading this story, thanks for stopping by! Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter. I will be posting the next one as soon as I can (I am a little more than halfway done). Thanks for reading!**

**PS: Lots of Joker/Julia interaction coming up! :D**


	9. Let's Toast to It

"Well, well, we-_hell_…long time no see my bite sized gingersnap. You've been cooped up in that _lone-ly_ attic for far too long. You were probably beginnin' to worry that I had forgotten all about my lil goody-two-shoes, hmm? Lucky for you, m'dear, that wasn't the case."

My body stiffened at the sound of the nasally voice coming from behind the platform. It was not that he startled me by any means; I knew from the moment his goons blindfolded me in the kitchen that he was not too far away, ready for a terrifying, new encounter. Instead, it was the way he spoke that filled me with uncontrollable dread. His words were laced with sickening malice, seeping from the decayed mouth with an almost disturbing calmness.

I feared in my heart that this would be my final scene. I assumed that my abductor had become bored of my presence after how ever many countless days. Could he have simply desired to punish Melia and show the citizens of Gotham just what the fatal consequences would be to those who dared laugh in his city? Allowing ample time for various rumors to float about regarding the unthinkable torment that I had faced at his purple-clad hands, he would finally dispose of me. He needed to prove that he alone had the right and privilege to find amusement in this dark city.

"Tell me, Miss Brr-iii-ton, you a fan of history?"

I was taken aback by this seemingly harmless question. I had only expected him to emit his cruel, maniacal laughter as he did away with me once and for all. Deciding it best to humor him, I nodded before choking out a feeble, "Yes."

Ignoring my unusually cooperative answer, he continued with a hint of excitement underlying the malevolence in his voice. "Me, I've always been a big fan of the _Dark Ages_- - a time when science wasn't quite as ahh advanced as it is nowadays. Back then, those "upstanding" citizens could not…grasp the fun-duh-mentals of logic and reason."

I could hear him smack those painted lips feverishly, a mannerism that I had grown accustomed to during his irregular visits. He was about to reveal some obscure fact that he had no qualms in sharing with me, just as long as it drove me to tears or made my body shake with nerves, of course. If what he had to say didn't have a negative impact on me, then how would it be beneficial to him?

"For instance, when somethin' _terrible_ occurred; say your typical drought or the not so unusual plague, they were all so utterly con-vinced that it was the Devil terrorizing 'em once again. But never His Satanic Majesty himself. No, no he would need an agent or two to perform his bidding."

He paused for only a moment, strategically creating a dramatic effect. "Eventually, the townspeople began to notice somethin', shall we say, out of the ordinary with a select few; certain individuals possessed hair of _fire_."

I drew a sharp intake of breath at his last words, my eyes darting to the grundgy red hair draped over my shoulder.

Again, he waited before speaking, allowing me to fearfully soak up this new tidbit of information. "Ironically, those superstitious morons had one uh preferable way to stop His evil incarnates and save the village from despair and what not. They captured those poor, hapless gingers and tied 'em in front of the town for all to see…just before setting the whole lot ahh-blaze!"

It was then the Joker made his anticipated entrance, slowly appearing around the platform. He looking like a crazed villager with a burning torch in hand. Methodically, he ascended the five stairs until he stopped within only a few feet of me.

"Now typically, I'm not the superstitious type. The power of reason is what drives me. Are you motivated by reason, Miss Brighton?"

I blinked in surprise when he addressed me. His intimidating demeanor had caused my mind to go blank, terror taking hold of any logical thought left in me. "What do you mean?"

He bore his yellow teeth in a wild grin, his black irises gleaming with delight. "Aww common kiddo!" I tensed when he brought down his free hand to clasp my shoulder roughly. "Remember now, I spied on you the entire month and a half you lived in this here city. And lemme tell ya, you're ignorant as hell for deciding to move to such a fucked up place. But that doesn't mean that you're in the least bit dense."

His gloved fingers gripped my shoulder even more tightly as I stared cautiously at the delicate fingers of the flames. He suddenly spoke with the utmost seriousness. "I bet you'll know _exactly_ what I'm talking about. I would bet that if I gave you a good enough reason, you'd do somethin' you never thought you could do. With the proper motivation, I'd wager that you would obey any and every command I gave you…even if that includes stopping a beating heart."

I could never be sure what inane, immoral thought would materialize and manage to seep from between his blood-spattered lips. But this statement had my mind spinning in confusion. The Joker, a man who gladly murdered at will, suggesting that I, someone who's philosophy was completely the opposite of his, stoop to his level? I became frantic. He needed to understand that he was mistaken in believing I could perform such an unforgiveable act.

"How could you even ask that- - I'd never commit murder. I'm not that type of person!"

The Joker threw his greased head back as he maliciously barked with laughter. "You're deluded about what kind of person you _think_ you are. Everyone has a price, Miss Brighton. Everyone…including you."

At this, he placed the glowing torch in a drilled hole uncomfortably close to the hemline of my costume. The Joker's fingers roughly grabbed the top of my head, tugging the strands from the limp lock hanging past my shoulder towards him. He used the other hand to pull out a small, silver item from an inside compartment of his huge coat. I could just barely make out the elaborate design of a Joker playing card decorating the front of the Zippo.

In one swift, fluid motion, the Joker flicked open the Zippo and brought the small, yet daunting flame towards the other end of the strands of hair he held captive at the root. Immediately, I could feel the heat on my cheek as the fire leapt up my hair. Before the flames could engulf my whole head, he extinguished them with a quick pull of his gloved hand. As soon as he did, a horrible stench assaulted my nostrils from the singed ends of my red locks. The strands which remained had curled up and seared together. Dropping the Zippo back into his inner coat pocket, the Joker turned and lifted the torch from its spot in the floor. He stared down at me, defying me to contradict his command.

But no matter what, I couldn't let the Joker win. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to speak. "There isn't anything you can say or do that would _ever_ convince me to take away an innocent life."

"Ahh, so you won't spill the blood of an innocent. What if I told ya this particular individual was a vile creature, destructive to the lives of decent human beings? The depth of this person's betrayal runs to the core of their soul. Doesn't it sound like a mad dog that needs to be put down once and for all?"

I glared furiously at him, answering with a simple, yet firm, "Never."

I had thought he would grow angry at my stubbornness, but I was taken aback when he smirked, looking immensely pleased. "So noble! You just _reek_ with those unbreakable principles of yours." He feigned a sigh of impatience, looking as though he was not quite sure what to think of me. "Well, I'm afraid you've left me no choice."

Dropping my hair but never taking his eyes off me, he reached deliberately into the left pocket of the overcoat. I shrank against the pole, wondering what instrument of torture he would present. Sensing my apprehension, the Joker slowed his movements until the unknown object was finally revealed…

A remote?

"I'm certain that just five minutes of viewing this slideshow I put together will…sway your opinion."

Up to this point, I had completely forgotten about the projector and the illuminated screen in front of me. With an emphatic click of a button on the remote, the once blank easel became an array of sudden colors. The image displayed on the screen was a photograph apparently taken on my second night in Gotham.

"Gotham welcomes twenty-five year old actress Miss Brr-iii-ton, future star met with local hospitality!"

I shuddered at his exaggerated tone; he sounded as though he were a sportscaster announcing the unfolding events of a wildly popular tournament. Ignoring him as best I could, I focused on the image before me.

There I stood, tears streaming down my face. I remembered the scene vividly; I had just discovered the cruel words 'Welcome to Gotham' etched into the side of my tire-slashed car. At my side was Lieutenant Gordon shining a flashlight at the damaged vehicle. His comforting arm around my shoulders, he looked apologetically at the callous act perpetrated by an unknown vandal in the city he served. I couldn't help but wonder if Lieutenant Gordon remembered me, especially since I was sure my abduction was likely to be heavily publicized.

Before I knew it, a new picture filled the screen. My savior and I were still represented, but the setting had changed. We were at my four-story apartment building. He was carrying countless bags of groceries up the stairs while I unlocked the door. Despite the situation I was currently in, I could not help but allow my lips a small smile as I recollected the immense generosity this man had offered. The short-lived happiness I felt vanished instantaneously as the Joker spoke again.

"I had just started keepin' tabs on Gordon to see what this supposedly good cop was up to. He shows promise of being a real thorn in the side…the man just _won't _let sleeping dogs lie.

"While going through a day's worth of photos one of my cronies delivered me, I had thought we had a stroke of luck when the bee-aaa-uuu-teeful Miss Brighton appeared towards the end of the stack."

He literally grabbed my attention when I felt the sudden unfeeling fingers around my chin, yanking my head to face him once again. "What a perfect way to exploit Gotham City's favorite copper! This was just the wedge I needed to pry his personal life wide open for all to see! But then you two spoilsports just _had_ to burst my bubble."

I braced myself for the painful impact of the pole as he pushed my head away in frustration.

"I should've realized Gordon would never have the guts to cheat on his wife. And the fact that you're so damned prudish didn't help either.

"Then it hit me! Even though Gordon wouldn't do me the favor of disgracing his own good name, I could make him feel like a failure by doing away with this pitiful newcomer he had shown such chivalry towards!"

Waving his arm dramatically, a new photo once again came into view. The camera had captured the image of me getting ready to slide into the waiting cab that would transport me to my new theatre troupe's gathering at Chez Isabelle. My black winter coat completely covered the plum dress I had inadvertently worn on my third night in this sensitive city.

"With your car outta commission, I knew you'd be using public transit. This would certainly provide for interesting opportunities to ratchet the guilt Gordon would feel if something just awful happened to you.

"So I uhh…_borrowed_ a taxi from some nameless chap. Oh don't look so shocked!"

He rolled his eyes when mine widened in horror. I just couldn't understand how anyone had the ability to embrace such cruelty.

"Think of it this way, my "despicable" act as you'd call it helped thin Gotham's overpopulated streets."

When I failed to react to his sarcastic cleverness, he mumbled something about how everyone's a critic. "My first thought was to send you careening off a midtown bridge in a ball of flame. But then I knew it would be tedious 'n time-consuming for Gordon to identify a charred body. So instead I figured why not drag you into an alleyway where I'd slice 'n dice ya to pieces?"

It was disturbing to see a fellow human being speak so dismissively about the matter of viciously taking away someone's life. But then I realized that this man standing before me could not possibly be human. He was an advocate of Satan.

"However, everything changed as soon as you set foot in the hijacked cab. When that blabbering Silberblatt idiot opened his obnoxious mouth, I just couldn't helped but be amused by that fiery temper of yours. And to top it all off, you had never even heard about the beginning of my reign of chaos _and_ you unknowingly wore _my_ signature color? Ha! I would be a fool if I didn't notice your heart stopping potential.

"I took a step back from Gordon, and turned my attention to you…"

And there it was. The very reason the Joker had chosen me out of all the others. It was not only because I had made the avoidable mistake of informing him about the performances that would produce laughter to the melancholy audience. In spite of himself, he found me humorous.

Because of my ignorance and petulant mood that night, I had unknowingly become the ideal candidate for his little experiment. In his eyes, the pain and guilt I was still experiencing from Derrick's death could potentially manifest itself into deadly anger and eventual lack of emotions. The ingredients needed to commit murder.

The rest of the slideshow consisted of scenes from the month and a half I resided in Gotham. Some were of me on my own, either running errands or touring the landmarks during my free time. Others depicted me with fellow cast members.

While my car was being repaired, Trey MacLeod had been friendly to offer me rides back home. Another showed Kathleen, Anna, and me perusing shelves at a library for extensive research on our Ancient Greek parody. One of the final few was set in the bustling streets. I walked side by side with Collette and Corrine in search of a venue for cocktails after an especially draining rehearsal.

The last was of me and Richie Silberblatt in the theatre parking lot, both of our eyes flashing angrily. He had just confronted me, questioning my refusal to go out with him after a few weeks of his insistent flirtation. As much as he had irritated me, I felt incredibly guilty. It was my fault he was dead. If I hadn't provoked the Joker earlier that month, Richie would not have tried to rescue me from my abductor's grasp. His murder was the first I had ever witnessed.

"The camaraderie she found with her fellow thespians never made up for the pangs of homesickness she felt from missing her precious, loving family. Lucky for her, _half_-brother Justin brought his _luv-er-lee _sperm bank and their lil toxic assets along for a trip to the mean streets of Gotham.

My own eyes filled to the brim as I took in the image of me trying to hold back tears when Oliver and Kimmy squeezed me in a tight embrace. I remembered how I couldn't take my eyes off of their dear faces; it felt as though I had not seen them in years.

The Joker had left these new photos on the screen a bit longer than he had the previous ones. With each sharp click of the remote, I could feel my already bruised heart sink even further. The reality that these images would hold the last moments of me with my family was too much to bear.

Many of the projected pictures were taken during our trip to the Gotham City Zoo. There I stood, laughing at Ollie's imitation of the boisterous monkeys in one photo, while gently encouraging him to pet the snake a handler had wrapped around his arm in the next. One caused me to give a bittersweet smile. Kat barely stood past my shoulders, looking up at me with amusement. Her daughter was the spitting image of her, a petite girl with golden locks framing her gentle face. Kimmy sat on my shoulders, braiding my hair whilst I burst into giggles at what Kat had said. I couldn't help but notice that in each picture with my family, I had a joyful grin upon my face. Yes, I did have fun moments with my fellow actors. But every single one of my smiles in this documented set were genuine.

The last picture was the one that caused the tears to cascade from my eyes. Justin and I sat alone at the table, finishing the last of our hot chocolates. Studying this photo made me realize how different, and yet how similar, my half-brother and I were. As we leaned forward in the same, relaxed manner, it became clear how much taller he was than me. He probably stood almost as tall as the man who now controlled what I was to see. Justin had been ruffling my hair, and the sunlight shining on his revealed hints of grey beginning to collect in his noir strands. The two physically visible features that we shared were the smiles hanging below two oval, blue eyes. We had inherited both from our mother.

During my imprisonment, I often wondered if the Gotham City police had managed to contact Justin. I imagined him with Kat, staring hopelessly out the frosted window at her mother's home. Had he not believed them at first? Maybe he would have tried to reach me on my cell phone over and over again out of desperation. I did not hate the Joker because of my kidnapping. I despised him for the effect it must be having on my loved ones.

I started against the pole when sudden purple came into view. The Joker mockingly flicked away the tears staining my face.

"Aww…su-such a tender moment with her beautiful family." He had begun to sniffle dramatically. "How she misses them so…what she would give to see 'em one- last- _time!_"

Just as quickly as he burst into feigned whimpers, a new smile broke out onto his crudely painted face. It was the most hideous one I had seen yet.

"They're in Gotham, ya know."

I gave him a look of horror before turning back to the new image on the screen. Standing outside of what looked to be the Gotham City police station was Lieutenant Gordon with my family. Gordon was frozen in mid-sentence, Justin and Kat listening intently. Kat held Kimmy in her arms, trying to hold back tears. Justin looked like a different man entirely. His youthful face seemed prematurely aged, purplish circles under his tired, searching eyes. His expression was one of melancholy and consistent worry. The children, Oliver gripping his dad's hand, were not listening to Gordon. They were both looking in opposite directions, almost as if they were waiting for me to appear. From the looks of it, they weren't aware that they may never see Aunt Julie ever again.

"Poor Justin and Kat. It must be so…_heart wrenchin' _to not know what they're lil sis is being put through…" The Joker poked out his lower lip, regarding me with contrived sadness. "Ohhh well, I s'pose they'll know soon enough when I ship 'em three bodies that were burnt to a crisp."

He drew out the last word, ending it with a condescending pop. I didn't understand. Three? I was one but who were the other…?

There was no need to complete my thought. The Joker's intention became crystal clear even before I heard the faint click of the remote. It was the same photo, only this time, the lens was focused on the faces of my niece and nephew.

"Kiddies make good kindling, Miss Brighton."

I grew rigid against the pole, anger and fear merging together to create a strange, powerful feeling inside me. The Joker could threaten me all he liked; I had no choice but to endure it. But Oliver and Kimmy? No, I would not let their innocence be destroyed too.

"You won't touch them." I turned my head slowly to face him, my eyes narrowed. Only this time, I was no longer afraid to stare into his own, even with the flames reflecting off of them, creating a chilling glow. My voice was low and broken by the resentment filling my soul.

"All it takes is one phone call." The Joker began to circle me, gradually closing in. I tried to watch him to the best of my ability until he disappeared behind the pole. "Just. One. Phone call, and suh-weet, innocent Oliver and Kimmy will join their auntie in the bonfire…that she could have prevented too…if she wasn't so damn stubborn."

He now stood beside me, the flames of the torch dancing near my eyes. With his free hand, he pushed back the hair that was in my face, speaking so low, almost whispering. "And I can't even begin to imagine how agonizingly painful it will be to burn off all that milky white skin of yours." His gloved fingers trailed almost seductively over my jaw line before coming to rest and wrapping around my throat. "So what's it gonna be my lil witch? Die out of foolish nobility? Or experience the thrill of snuffing out a worthless, pathetic life…knowing, of course, I will kill you when you cease to provide amusement for me."

Looking helplessly at the Joker, I knew what I had to do, but I needed just one question answered before I succumbed completely.

"Do I know the person I'd k-kill?"

His tongue swiped a corner of his mouth, lightly touching the place where his keloid scars began. His face was expressionless and when he spoke, it wasn't foreboding or mocking. For the first time, it almost calmed and relaxed me. "No sweetheart, you don't know them at all."

I tried to find a hint that he may be lying, a twitch of his eyes, but even they were unreadable. Drawing a shaky breath, I murmured, "I'll do it."

The Joker leaned in closer, the fingers around my neck applying a small bit of pressure. "That was a wise decision."

He gave me a small nod before disappearing behind the pole once again. I heard him step off the platform followed by the sounds of a splash of water and the faint hissing of the torch being extinguished. I breathed a sigh of relief. No one would be burnt alive…or at least not tonight.

It wasn't long before he appeared next to me again, cutting away at the ropes that bound me to the pole.

"Please promise you won't hurt Oliver and Kimmy." I gave him one last plea, hoping he would guarantee their safety since I had risked all by giving in.

"As long as you do what I tell ya, Miss Brighton, you'll have nothin' to worry about."

With a final sever, the ropes tying my body fell to the floor at my feet and he quickly sliced the ones that had been cutting off the circulation around my wrists. Before I could begin to massage the numbness away, a new blindfold wrapped tightly over my eyes. I was then escorted down the steps and out the door, trying not to stumble clumsily. I didn't really understand why he insisted on blindfolding me again. It wasn't a long walk to the house and by the cool, stillness of the air, I could tell that it was nighttime. I would have difficulty distinguishing my surroundings regardless. But perhaps he didn't want me to have any sense of my bearings whatsoever.

When we walked into the kitchen, a heavenly smell filled my nostrils, causing my mouth to water. I had expected to be fed the usual odorless garbage, but this…whatever this familiar smell was, it had my stomach trembling appreciatively. I was pushed down into a chair right at the source of aroma tickling my face. When the blindfold was removed, I stared dumbfounded at the plate filled with chicken cordon bleu, creamy mashed potatoes, and sautéed green beans. The very meal I had eaten on the same night I was driven home by the man who now seated himself across from me. Behind him was a bag with the words Chez Isabelle printed elegantly in cursive.

Was this my reward for agreeing to take a life? I shifted uncomfortably in my seat when I glanced back at the Joker. He stared at me, commanding me with his eyes to start eating. Obediently, I lifted the knife and fork and quickly began cutting the meat. When I finished, I carefully pushed the knife away from me as far as possible. I didn't want to be tempted to use it for any other purpose. I could still feel the Joker's eyes on me, so I created a curtain with my hair around one side of my face.

Neither of us spoke while I ate. I thought he might start a conversation at any time, but he never did. After awhile, he started to drum his fingers on the table, probably out of boredom. And I was too afraid to say anything, so I kept my mouth shut unless I pushed food into it. The food was delicious, but not quite as I remembered it from a month and a half ago. It must have been the nerves that prevented me from enjoying it thoroughly. I chewed each morsel slowly before forcing it past the lump in my throat. I only hoped my stomach wouldn't reject it from the anxiety that increased each minute. It felt as if I were an inmate on Death Row granted one final wholesome meal the night before my execution.

I gave a slight start when I heard the Joker's hands slam on the table impatiently. I peeked at him through my hair when he stood abruptly and walked past me. There was the sound of a cabinet being opened and then silence. I carefully swallowed the last bite before straightening in my seat, listening. I desperately wanted to turn my head to see what he was doing but I was too frightened.

Suddenly, a loud blast caused me to jump violently in the chair. Had I been shot? I waited for the pain to erupt in my head or back when something ricocheted off the ceiling and rolled onto the floor. But the pain never came. I was alive and breathing heavily.

An amused cackle came from behind me as the Joker appeared at the table with two glasses and a bottle of champagne. "My, aren't we jumpy tonight?"

Heat rose in my cheeks from embarrassment as I tried to calm myself down. My heart pounded against the hand I had placed over it when I spotted a cork resting innocently on the floor. The Joker took my other hand and placed it securely around a filled glass.

"I believe a toast is in order." He raised his glass and I felt obligated to lift my own. "A toast to corruptibility. To loss of innocence. A toast to…getting even." He clinked our glasses together and I watched in abhorrence as he downed the drink in two gulps. I had the sudden urge to splash mine in his face. It took a lot of effort to only bring the glass to my lips and sip at it.

Afterwards, he took me back up to the attic and re-shackled me. "Sleep tight, kiddo." I received a quick pat on the cheek before he left with a slight spring in his step. Why did he feel the need to always do that? Patting me with insincere fondness? When he locked the door behind him, the internal battle emerged.

What had I done? Who in their right mind would agree to murdering anybody? While it's true that I had a temper not to be reckoned with, that shouldn't imply that I didn't have a strong sense of morality.

But he threatened to kill Oliver and Kimmy. I remembered when Kimmy had seen the Joker on the news; she was so terrified, completely scared out of her mind. I would not put their lives in danger for the sake of protecting my virtues.

What method would I be using to end the life of my unknown victim? Would it be quick and easy with a gun? But I had never fired an armed weapon in my life. There was no doubt in my mind the Joker would not have the patience to give me a brief lesson. And it could backfire, with me shooting him and his henchmen in order to escape. No, the Joker wasn't moronic. He would never allow me to handle a gun.

So it had to be a knife. A more personal touch. To succeed, one must puncture the feeble layers of tissue before guiding the blade to its prize: the beating heart. An organ so vital to human existence, its sole purpose coming to an abrupt end by the damage from the intrusion. I could clearly imagine the scarlet blood that would drench my pearl-colored costume, its aroma beginning to creep up my nostrils. I could almost feel it splatter my face generously, unstoppable drops breeching my mouth. The essence of copper greeting my dry throat…

I couldn't go through with it. How could I?

But I had to. For my niece and nephew, I had to obey. But…oh God, what could I do?

I always had strived to "do the right thing"…to make good choices...to be an upstanding citizen. Is it ever justified to commit murder? Sure, in self-defense. But this isn't the same thing, is it? Will I even be able to live with myself afterwards? Can I someday convince myself that, under the circumstances, there was no other alternative? My once strong ethics now would have no choice but to bow down in defeat.

I hadn't realized that I had begun to pace, walking as far as I could until the chains dragging the floor tightened and I could go no further. I started in a new direction, repeating the process.

It would have to be quick. Would a slit to the throat be enough? It killed Richie and it was fast. There would be blood gurgling along with the gasps for air. But it would be over soon. I shuddered at myself for planning out such an appalling act, but I just wanted it to be over with, with as little suffering as possible.

As I turned around, I gasped at the sudden, unannounced presence of the Joker. My eyes darted to his hand, which held bottled water.

"You really should get some shut eye, Miss Brighton. You're gonna need your energy for tomorrow."

He unscrewed the cap and handed me the bottle. I took it gratefully, my throat felt so dry. The water was gone in no time; I always had the tendency to drink copious amounts the night of a performance. It had a calming effect on me.

"Thank you," I whispered, giving back the bottle. Almost instantaneously, I began to feel lightheaded. When I looked up, the Joker's outline was slightly blurred. "What…what did you…?" My voice became drowsy and almost incoherent. I walked shakily to the wall, afraid my legs would give out at any moment. The Joker followed casually behind.

"Dontcha worry, doll face. Just a Mickey Finn."

I tried to lean my body against the wall, but my legs were unable to support me. I slowly slid down to the floor, my lids becoming increasingly heavier.

The Joker's voice was distant, almost as if he were in an echo chamber. I could hear him, but by the time the words reached my brain, I struggled to comprehend them. I couldn't be sure if this was reality, or the beginning of a dream.

* * *

Author's Note: I just wanted to quickly ask...I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I feel as though the Joker has evolved with each chapter. Personally, I prefer the way he was written in this one (I give credit to my boyfriend for his assistance). But I wondered whether you guys liked it or not. You can be honest, I just really want to write the Joker to the best of my ability. Thank you so much for your feedback and opinions! And thank you for reading! :D


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